


Next in line

by Spectral_Mist, Twilight Fang (Asthenos)



Category: The Real Ghostbusters
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-01-29 18:23:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 60,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21414631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spectral_Mist/pseuds/Spectral_Mist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asthenos/pseuds/Twilight%20Fang
Summary: Peter discovers that he doesn’t know Egon as well as he thought he did when a powerful entity exploits Egon’s carefully hidden secret.
Relationships: Egon Spengler/Peter Venkman
Comments: 88
Kudos: 121





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for descriptive language that is more violent than The Real Ghostbusters usually uses, and for non-con that may be uncomfortable for some readers.

“Winston, would you please move aside so that I may scan the room?”

Peter wondered if it was even necessary for Egon to enter the room when the PKE meter’s sensor wings were already extended to their maximum position from across the hall. The device itself was wailing like an electronic banshee, alerting them to the presence of a supernatural entity in the building. As if the splatters of red ectoplasm on the walls, doors, and furniture hadn’t been warning enough.

“Y’know, we’ve seen many different shades of ectoplasm,” Peter mused as he waited for Winston to move, or Egon to push past their teammate to gain access to what appeared to be a recreational room. From his vantage point, Peter caught a glimpse of the tops of full sized arcade games and a rack of billiards cue sticks. “Green, purple, pink, blue...” It wasn’t difficult for him to remember every color of ectoplasm they had ever come into contact with because he was the one who usually ended up getting slimed with it. “But I do believe that this is the first time I’ve seen such a healthy shade of red.”

“I think we’d better skip this room.” Winston turned around slowly and carefully, ensuring that he continued to block the door frame, and bar access to the room. His dark features were unaffected by emotion on the outside, but something lurked just below the surface. Something that looked a hell of a lot like panic. But panicking would be so unlike the calm, level-headed man that Peter knew. Of all the Ghostbusters, Winston was the one who held it together the best. He was their rock, after all.

_What the hell is inside that room_? Peter wondered.

“Whatever’s inside can’t be _that_ bad,” Ray prodded cheerfully. With an attitude that positive, Ray deserved to be the one on the receiving end of the slime - not Peter.

“I concur,” Egon added without looking up from his PKE monitor.

“It’s that bad and worse,” Winston snapped in a tone that even got Egon’s attention.

“Winston, we train for this sort of thing every day. Even if we haven’t seen it before, we’ve got the tools and experience to deal with it.” Not giving Winston’s behavior a second thought, Peter gripped him by the shoulder and pulled him out of the way. Peter was the unofficial leader of the Ghostbusters. If anyone was going to be giving orders about what rooms were off-limits, it would be Peter. Anyway, for all Peter knew, Winston was keeping them from entering a room full of spectral rats. That was the only explanation Peter could think of for the tense look in Winston’s eyes, what with Winston’s musophobia and all.

At first, Peter didn’t immediately see what the problem was because it was right in front of his face. He was more used to ruling out the peripheral area before looking at the most obvious location - dead center. And dead they most certainly were. A pile of human bodies three people deep covered the floor area, staining the white carpet with the red ectoplasm that oozed out of them. Suddenly Peter knew why the ectoplasm was red and it caused him to inhale sharply. He should’ve listened to Winston and left the room alone. This was definitely something that none of them had seen before. Winston, with his incomplete military training, was perhaps a bit better equipped to deal with such a horrific scene, but not the rest of them.

Before his brain could begin processing the state of the human corpses, of how drained and disfigured they looked, Peter was switching to autopilot. His own reaction to the massacre would have to wait. First he had to protect Ray and Egon from witnessing such a gruesome scene. Winston he would psychoanalyze later.

“I agree with Winston. I think it would be best if—.”

But it was already too late. When Peter turned to the ghost enthusiast and physicist, he found them both profoundly affected by what lay before them. Ray’s face was aghast with horror, and Egon was staring unblinking at the wasteland of bodies, the PKE meter shaking in his trembling hand.

This was not a regular haunting or a routine bust. Either they were dealing with a combination of a poltergeist and a serial murderer, or there was a powerful force at work that they were ill-prepared to confront at this point in time. Retreat was their best - and only - option.

“What say we go back outside, where it’s nice and quiet, and discuss this before moving on?” Peter kept his voice neutral, not wanting to upset any of his friends further, or risk letting on that they were all absolutely terrified. Because nothing served to attract ghosts and evil faster than a little fear. Judging by the unfocused look in Egon’s blue eyes, Peter was now even beginning to worry about the Boogieman escaping from the containment unit. Although he usually kept his emotions buried where they wouldn’t hinder him, Egon tended to feel things like fear on a much higher level than the rest of them. And the Boogieman fed on Egon’s fear like a wrestler at a Chinese buffet.

“Good idea, Pete.” Winston led an unresisting Ray down the hallway by his elbow, steering him towards the front entrance.

That left Egon to Peter, which was the way Peter preferred it. While Peter had the bad habit of teasing Egon relentlessly, he was actually very fond of the physicist. They understood each other quite well, having formed an unorthodox relationship back in college that had shocked and confused Peter’s jock buddies and Egon’s brainiac colleagues. Peter shared a natural rhythm with Egon that he just couldn’t compare to the fun way he interacted with Ray, or the masculine camaraderie that he used to communicate with Winston. And, aside from getting along splendidly with an intellect such as Egon, Peter also had the secret pleasure of finding the physicist damningly attractive. It hadn’t been too hard, really, not after Peter had gotten over all of Egon’s peculiar quirks and nerdy pastimes. On a superficial level, Egon made for some sweet eye candy. What with those clear blue eyes, thick blond hair, and overall slender physique. Even Egon’s geeky round red-rimmed glasses could do nothing to mute the vibrant sky blue of those sexy eyes, and Peter actually thought the blond’s pompadour and little wavy tail trailing down the collar of his uniform were cute. Everything was so _Egon_ and the complicated mess of subdued emotions on the inside, coupled with the blond’s superior intellect, just made Peter want him all the more.

Too bad for Peter that he wanted what he couldn’t have. He couldn’t risk his friendship with Egon, or their professional working relationship, by dipping his fingers into the honeypot, so to speak. But that didn’t stop him from recklessly charging into haunted houses and putting himself into the line of fire so that he wouldn’t have to cope with the object of his affections getting hurt.

“Let’s put this away before you accidentally poke me with it.” Peter casually plucked the PKE meter out of Egon’s grasp and hooked it onto his own utility belt. He then herded Egon away from the slaughter, keeping one arm around the blond’s shoulders to prevent him from looking back. So far, they hadn’t run into whatever was responsible for that pile of bloody corpses. Peter hoped that their luck wouldn’t run out before they got clear of the building.

“... all adolescents...”

“Huh?” Peter had to strain his ears to hear because Egon’s voice was awfully low. Either the blond was murmuring to himself, which he had a tendency to do while performing calculations in his head, or he was whispering for fear of being overheard.

Unfortunately, Peter didn’t have a chance to figure out what was on Egon’s mind when all the doors in the house slammed shut simultaneously, and there was some sort of power surge that threw the building into absolute darkness. Their only sources of light were now the glowing indicators on the proton packs, and the beeping PKE meter on Peter’s belt.

“Shit,” Peter hissed softly as he withdrew his arm from Egon and powered up his thrower. He felt a little relieved when Egon did the same, but that feeling faded when he noticed how badly spooked the blond looked. The thrower was practically vibrating in Egon’s shaking hands, and he was crowding Peter far too closely. At this rate, they would end up accidentally shooting each other before they tagged the entity that was now threatening them. “Egon, do you think you could back up... just a little?” Hopefully Winston and Ray had already gotten outside. It was too risky to start shouting for them. If they were still inside, they would circle back soon enough. And if they were outside... well, then that was one less thing for Peter to freak out about.

{_Sweet.}_

_{I did not expect another so soon.}_

They both cringed as the air itself seemed to tingle with the charge of a paranormal voice. It slid over Peter’s skin, causing the hair on the nape of his neck to bristle with discomfort. Whirling around, Peter tried to discern the origin of the voice but could not make out much besides the general vicinity that they were in.

{_This one is sweeter than the rest. Like a delicately aged wine.}_

As the voice cackled to itself, Egon shivered all over, actually dropping his thrower in favor of desperately brushing off what could have been phantom spiders from his arms, chest, and face. In his panic, he nearly knocked off his glasses and elbowed Peter in the gut.

“Egon, you ought to know better than to drop a fully charged neutrona wand,” Peter mildly scolded. He had years of practice that enabled him to pretend that he wasn’t bothered by what was transpiring in front of him. But that didn’t make it any easier for him to watch Egon continue to struggle with the invasive ghostly fingers that were no doubt skimming over the blond’s body after they had failed to find what they wanted in Peter’s. First, Peter grabbed the particle thrower that was dangling from Egon’s proton pack, powering it down before someone got hurt. Then he swept his own hands over Egon’s body, searching for creepy insects or an ethereal touch.

“Get it off, Peter,” Egon pleaded. “_Please_, get it off!”

Hearing Egon reduced to begging was all it took to shatter Peter’s nonchalant exterior and bring out his impulsive, protective side. “You heard him,” he spat at where he assumed the entity to be. “Get the hell off of him before I scatter your molecules all over the ceiling.”

_{I must have a taste.}_

Peter didn’t know what the unseen entity meant by that but he was sure that it would result in nothing pleasant for Egon.

“You want a taste of someone, how about sinking your teeth into a Venkman,” Peter taunted. “You might end up breaking your jaw on my tough exterior.”

“Peter, that isn’t humorous.” Nothing could lure Egon back into the game faster than Peter offering to sacrifice himself.

“Neither is watching you get assaulted by invisible spiders,” Peter shot back, not at all in a joking mood.

{_You dare insult me with tainted flesh?!_}

There was no warning before a set of jagged claws lashed out at Peter, slicing straight across the left side of his face. He was knocked backwards and away from Egon by the force of the blow. The pain and shock of the attack momentarily stunned him, but the sound of Egon screaming brought him back to his senses. In all the time they had known each other, despite having been frightened and injured on the job plenty of times, Peter had never heard Egon scream like that. It was a scream of pure terror with agony mixed in for good measure.

{_Yesss. This one is delicious. His blood is hot and sweet on my tongue.}_

Peter instinctively launched himself at Egon, tearing at a physical form that he could now feel but was still unable to see. It was large and solid, and it was restraining Egon by the arms while it sank its teeth into the juncture between Egon’s shoulder and neck. Peter could barely make out the indentations in the flesh that had been exposed by Egon’s torn uniform and the thin trickle of blood that marred the blond’s otherwise fair skin.

“WINSTON! RAY!” No longer caring about preserving the silence or keeping the other two Ghostbusters out of harm’s way, Peter shouted for backup. His own vision was blurred on the left side, most likely by blood. Those claws had gouged him pretty badly along his eyebrow, and again over his cheekbone. But no amount of pain or lost blood was going to stop him from protecting Egon. “Get your nasty teeth and your rabies away from him!” Now becoming quite desperate, for Egon was beginning to sway on his feet, Peter wrenched his thrower between the entity’s unseen teeth and Egon’s damaged flesh, preparing to blast the thing in the mouth if he had to. He would need to angle it in just right to avoid hurting Egon or inadvertently blowing a hole in his own face.

“Pete, you concentrate on that thing’s mouth. I’ll try to loosen its grip.” Winston appeared at Peter’s side, grabbing for the monstrous hands that were pinning Egon’s arms to his sides.

“We can’t see it but I’m pretty sure it can see us.” Displaying an uncharacteristic amount of brutality, Ray jammed the business end of his thrower into what might have been an eye socket. There was a howl of anger, and the thrower seemed to be stuck on - or inside - something if Ray’s grunts and frantic tugging were any indication.

“Hang in there, Egon. We’ve almost got it off,” Peter panted. He pried harder and harder, trusting that Winston and Ray were fighting just as hard to free their friend and ally. And then, just as suddenly as the attack had started, it stopped. The three of them were forced to pull their punches lest they connect with Egon when the entity spontaneously dematerialized.

The lights were miraculously restored and the PKE meter dropped back into standby mode once the psychokinetic disturbance was gone.

Peter caught Egon in his arms when the blond collapsed. Egon’s breathing was uneven and his body wracked with tremors, and he was cold to the touch. Not wasting any time, Peter began to give the other two Ghostbusters orders. “Winston, make sure everything is clear up ahead. Ray, cover our asses, but don’t fall too far behind.” Knowing that he was going to be read the riot act later on, Peter eased the proton pack off of Egon’s shoulders, before lowering it to the ground, effectively abandoning it. He then stooped down to get one arm under Egon’s knees, hoisting the blond up and into his arms. Egon was so pale with shock that he did nothing to protest, allowing himself to be carried out of the building like a damsel in distress.

Once they were out in the open, Peter glanced back to see Ray hauling the extra proton pack behind him. During an emergency all non-essential items should be left behind. At least that’s what Peter had been taught back in high school. _Responsible idiot_, he thought to himself, holding back from reprimanding Ray over placing more importance on a piece of equipment over his own body. Even if it was a highly volatile, potentially explosive, piece of equipment.

“Winston, get Ecto started up and contact Janine. Have her notify the hospital that we’ll be bringing Egon into the emergency room. Ray, get the blankets and first aid kit out of the back.”

Peter lowered Egon onto the backseat of Ecto and then leaned in after him to check his vital signs. He usually left the medical care to Winston, who had the best judgment when it came to treating injuries. Next in line would have been Ray, but Peter was going out of his mind worrying about Egon’s unresponsive state. He needed to know if Egon was going to be alright and he needed to know _now_.

“Peter, do you want to give me some space so that I can check on Egon?” Ray asked apprehensively.

But Peter was already taking Egon’s pulse and inspecting the bite marks at the center of the purplish bruising along the blond’s shoulder. They didn’t appear to be too deep, and there were now only faint traces of fresh blood marking the area. “I’ve got him,” he replied. “Egon, are you still with me?” Peter asked as he gently pressed his hand against the side of Egon’s face. For a moment, that faraway haunted look remained, but it was slowly replaced with cognizant awareness and gratitude.

“Peter...” Egon breathed weakly, sounding incredibly exhausted.

“You’re outside now. You’re safe.” Peter took the bandage that Ray passed him, using it to apply pressure to the wound as he climbed into the vehicle and lifted Egon’s upper body into his lap.

Ray leaned in to throw a blanket over Egon and was about to slam the door shut when he obviously caught sight of Peter’s face. “Peter, you’re hurt!” He began to fuss over Peter’s face in dismay, dabbing at the blood with a perfectly good white towel.

Not wanting to seem ungrateful, Peter gripped Ray’s arm and gave him a wry smile. “Thanks, but it’s not as bad as it probably looks. I’ll get it cleaned up at the hospital.” Actually, if it looked as bad as it stung, Peter was pretty sure that he was going to need stitches. But his first priority was Egon. After Egon was seen to by a qualified doctor, only then would Peter have his own injuries seen to.


	2. Chapter 2

When Egon regained consciousness, he found himself lying in a strange bed that smelled heavily of disinfectant, which did nothing to mask the underlying unpleasant odors that permeated the starched bed sheets. Due to the nature of his research with spores, molds, and fungus, Egon had a rather sensitive sense of smell. Not only could he identify faint odors, but he could also separate individual ones if they were too closely clustered together. Now all he could smell was sickness, formaldehyde, hydrogen peroxide, and various other cleaning products. These were smells that he did not regularly associate with his own comfortable, well worn mattress, or the familiar assortment of men’s deodorant, hairspray, and cologne that cluttered up the counter space in the upstairs washroom of the firehouse. Even opening all the windows on a windy day never let in enough fresh air to completely vent the place out. Not much could be done about it due to the fact that there were four men living in close quarters with one another. But it didn’t really matter because Egon had grown used to the smells and found them reassuring - a predictable environment in an otherwise unpredictable occupation.

_Where am I?_

Egon’s brain felt strangely groggy - a feeling that he absolutely abhorred. If there was one thing that he could not tolerate, it was mental impairment of any kind. He needed his mental faculties to be at their peak operating efficiency at all times, which is why he avoided drinking and had never experimented with hallucinogenic drugs, like marijuana. His refusal to partake in the ritual polluting of the body and mind in college had gotten him blacklisted from any of the exciting on-campus parties. Not that he had ever found the exclusion socially debilitating. Despite the public ridicule and constant bullying, he had been befriended by the extremely popular - and slightly infamous - Peter Venkman. At first, Egon had been suspicious of Peter’s motives, wondering if perhaps he was going to become the victim of some cruel prank. However, not only had the bullying mysteriously stopped once Peter had become a constant visitor to Egon’s dorm room, but Egon had also begun to feel a lot less lonely in the world when in the rather arrogant man’s company.

“Egon? Are you awake?”

_Peter_?

Automatically responding to the voice that he trusted implicitly, Egon forced his eyes to open, only to shut them again when he was blinded by a blur of bright lights. He groaned against the pain that light caused, while also becoming vaguely aware of a hand softly stroking his hair and temple.

“Hang on. Let me lower the lights.” Beside the bed, a chair was pushed back, scraping along the sheet tile flooring. Then there were the sounds of heavy footsteps as a pair of tired feet, still clad in work boots, dragged themselves to the other side of the room.

“What happened?” Egon tried to ask, but he doubted that Peter would be able to make much sense of the breathless gasping that resulted from that attempt to speak.

“What do you remember?” Peter asked instead, from across the room. There was the sound of several light switches being flicked off, and then the room fell into a blissful darkness.

Egon risked opening his eyes again, this time slower, noting that the only light source was a weak one emanating from what he supposed was a lamp on the bedside table. Everything else was unidentifiable as it was out of focus.

“Close your eyes.”

Egon did as he was told and was rewarded with the familiar weight of his glasses settling onto the bridge of his nose. He waited patiently until Peter had adjusted the arms of the eyeglasses over his ears before opening his eyes again. He had been expecting to see Peter’s smug face smiling down at him, so he was shocked to be greeted by an expression so harsh that it actually frightened him. It was made even worse by the sight of two long jagged stitches over Peter’s left eyebrow, and a bandage covering his cheek on the same side. Peter looked like he had been mugged and then slashed with something sharp for refusing to give up his wallet, which was something Egon could actually imagine happening.

“It’ll heal,” Peter said flatly, as if being able to read Egon’s mind. Then those sharp green eyes were boring into Egon in the attempt to analyze his mental and physical state. “You’re in the hospital. You’ve been out for close to five hours.” When Egon shifted to try and pull his hand away from a dull, itching pain, Peter’s hand clamped down on his wrist, holding him in place. “Don’t pull out the IV. Your vitals are still really low...”

Was Peter angry with him? He sure sounded that way. Egon could remember everything that had happened, up until the moment when he lost the strength to keep his eyes open. That had probably been somewhere along the highway, on the drive over to the hospital. He had felt so drained, both physically and spiritually, that he gave into the need to sleep. With Peter nearby, Egon had instinctively known that he would be safe. Was that what Peter was upset about? Because Egon had lost consciousness and given him a dreadful scare?

“Peter, I’m sorry,” Egon apologized, both for his weakness and for the damage to Peter’s handsome face. If there was one thing Peter valued more than his decorative PhD’s, it was his good looks. Egon also had to admit that he found Peter remarkably attractive, although he liked him better when he was smirking, not scowling.

“You’re sorry?” Peter repeated, his mask of anger falling away to reveal concern and disbelief. “Egon, you have absolutely nothing to be sorry about.” Then, as if realizing how dehydrated Egon must be, Peter picked up a plastic cup with a fat straw inserted into the lid from the bedside table, while slipping his free arm behind Egon’s shoulders to support him while he drank. “Take slow sips,” he warned. “If you start choking and I have to call that really mean nurse back in here, we’ll both be sorry,” he joked half-heartedly.

Egon took a long sip of the beverage, pleasantly surprised to find that it was almond bubble tea. It was deliciously sweet, just the way Egon liked it, although it seemed to be missing the tapioca pearls at the bottom of the cup. The drink helped to alleviate his keen thirst, while being in close contact with Peter made Egon feel warm and comforted. Peter had a habit of making Egon feel better, whether he was bedridden with a cold, or aching all over after having been thrown halfway across the room by a vicious poltergeist. In most cases, a hug from Peter was all Egon needed to recover from whatever was bringing him down.

“Janine picked it up on her way over, along with a few of your favorite dishes from Wong’s. You can have some if you’re feeling up to it.”

Just the thought of sweet and sour pork was enough to perk up Egon’s appetite. After a few more sips of the drink, Egon tentatively inquired as to the whereabouts of his two absent friends. “Where are Ray and Winston?”

“They went back to the house,” Peter replied stiffly.

“_What_?!” Egon nearly knocked the cup out of Peter’s hands as his heart leapt into his throat in terror.

Peter placed the cup back onto the bedside table but did not immediately withdraw his arm from behind Egon’s shoulders. “Let’s just skip to the part where I threaten you, okay? If you don’t remain calm, I’m gonna give you a sedative. I’m not kidding, Egon. Your body literally can’t handle anymore stress. And neither can my stomach. So, do me a favor and lie there quietly while I fill you in on what’s going on.”

Left with no choice but to do as he was told, because Peter never bluffed when it came to the free disposal - and injection - of sedatives, Egon lay back and willed himself to withhold all displays of emotion.

“The police were anxious to identify the bodies,” Peter began. “And Ray was anxious to find some connection between you and the other victims, so Ray and Winston returned to the house accompanied by a SWAT team. _And_ \- before you go and lecture any of us on the dangers of involving civilians - we equipped the SWAT team with those experimental proton tasers that you were developing. Ray radioed in about half an hour ago to report that the malevolent force was no longer present and that they were assisting the police in analyzing the crime scene.” After a brief pause, Peter withdrew his arm from Egon and sat back to scrutinize him. “So far, it would seem that all of the identified victims are in their teens. It’s going to take a while to cross-reference them with the missing persons list, and go through the tedious task of matching dental records to corpses, but the coroner - and Ray - are pretty certain that none of the victims are over the age of twenty.”

“That is... peculiar,” was all Egon could think of saying.

“You’re damn right it is! You may suffer from youthful cravings for candy bars and childishly packaged snacks, but a teenager you are not. We’ve gotta find the common link between you and those kids before that _thing_ comes after you again. Is there anything you can tell me about your experience that might help?”

Egon didn’t want to remember the experience, much less have to describe it.

“I’m pretty damn sure that there was something different about your experience,” Peter persisted. “Winston, Ray, and myself all felt the air moving over our skin, as if we were being probed. But you... Egon, you screamed as if you were being tortured.”

Egon remembered perfectly fine the way he had been _probed_, and it hadn’t involved anything as harmless as air moving over his skin. He had been grabbed and molested in what he was fairly sure was a sexual manner. At least that’s what he assumed the corporeal creature’s intentions were when it had roughly drawn its powerful fingertips over his chest until it had found his nipples. And the only thing more unsettling than the meaty leg that had forced its way between Egon’s thighs was the sizeable protrusion that had ground against his hip. It was at exactly that point that Egon had panicked and screamed, pleading with Peter to free him from the creature’s grasp.

There was no way that Egon was going to go through the humiliation of recounting what had been done to him back at that ritual murder site. Especially because it involved confessing that he wasn’t one-hundred percent certain about the sexual part due to the fact that he had no frame of reference to compare it to. He would lose Peter’s respect if his friend discovered how inexperienced Egon actually was. Or, even worse, Egon might find himself subjected to merciless teasing and X-rated jokes that would crush his self esteem and alienate him from the rest of the team. No, he would not reveal the details of his aborted paranormal sexual assault, nor would he share his hypothesis on the very likely probability that all the victims had been virgins. He would simply will himself to forget the incident and lock himself inside his lab until he had identified the creature, and come up with a way to neutralize it. All without anyone being the wiser as to the motives behind the attack.

“Egon?”

“The attack was quite... _painful_,” Egon finally answered. That much was the truth. Both the physical and spiritual attack had hurt immensely. Those sharp teeth sinking into his flesh had ignited his nerve endings something fierce. And, as for his weakened state, he surmised that it was due to the creature feeding off of his spiritual essence. But, he wouldn’t know for sure until he got back to his lab to do some research and conduct the relevant tests.

“Painful how?”

Sometimes Egon found Peter’s blunt interrogations to be frustrating and annoying. Couldn’t Peter see that he did not want to elaborate on the nature of the attack? Couldn’t Peter just leave the matter alone for once?

Thankfully, Peter did not get a chance to press the issue when the door to the private hospital room opened and a pair of high heels clacked their way inside. “The food’s getting cold, and so am I,” Janine complained as she waltzed into the room. “Egon, you’re awake! How’re you feeling?” Without so much as sparing Peter a glance, she rushed over to the bed carrying two paper bags of Chinese takeout. “I know that Fridays are usually pizza night for you guys, but I don’t think I could’ve snuck one of those big pizza boxes past the front desk.”

“I thought I asked you to wait outside,” Peter muttered under his breath. He gave Janine a dirty look out of the corner of his eye, which he thought Egon wouldn’t notice. And in return, Janine mouthed a particularly vile imprecation that Egon surprisingly knew the meaning of.

“Yeah, you told me to wait until he woke up. I figured that he was awake enough for food if you were raking him over the goals for screwing up on the job.” Janine gave Peter a level stare as she began to open up the container that was loaded with sweet and sour pork. “I’ve got ears, you know. I could hear your pissy tone even with the door closed.”

“He didn’t screw up on the job,” Peter hurriedly corrected her. “And we weren’t fighting.”

“Sure you weren’t,” Janine drawled sarcastically in her thick Brooklyn accent.

“We weren’t fighting, Janine.” Egon found himself coming to Peter’s rescue, mainly because he didn’t want to see the two of them going at it inside the hospital. They were both capable of becoming embarrassingly vicious when trading insults. No recovering patient would want to be subjected to one of their shouting matches. “Thank you for the takeout... and for the bubble tea, minus the bubbles.”

Janine immodestly shrugged. “You wanna complain to someone about there being no bubbles? Complain to Mr. Bossy over there. He said no fizzy drinks, so no Coke, and no bubbles. _Control freak_.”

“Excuse me for not wanting Egon to choke on a bunch of stupid tapioca balls,” Peter practically snarled. “Anyone with an ounce of common sense knows not to let a patient lying on their back try and swallow that rubbery shit.”

“Don’t jump down my throat just because you’re feeling guilty about not taking down that poltergeist,” Janine shot back. Now they were both riled up and looked about ready to tear each other’s throats out.

“Could we please keep the atmosphere civil?” Egon suggested, but to no avail.

“It wasn’t a poltergeist!” Peter slammed his fist down on the bedside table as he lost control of his temper. “You want to know why I’m so pissed off?! Fine, I’ll tell you! It’s because I’ve had to sit here for the past five hours, worried sick about Egon, while you wasted your time waiting for Chinese takeout halfway across town!”

“Are you _seriously_ complaining about having to stay with Egon?!” Janine shrieked in outrage as she faced off against Peter.

On any normal occasion, Egon would have intervened to stop things from escalating further. But he couldn’t deny that the thought of Peter not wanting to keep him company while he was confined to a hospital bed stung. As did the tears that he was now fighting to gain control of before they spilled down his cheeks and revealed just how emotionally distraught he was.

“Don’t twist my words,” Peter warned. “I would gladly sleep on this floor every night of the week just to make sure that Egon’s okay. But I’m not the one who should be doing that. It should be _you_ taking care of Egon, not me.”

“What the hell do you mean?” Janine had no idea what Peter was getting at, and neither did Egon. “First you tell me to stay out of the room, and then you bitch about me not getting here soon enough.”

“He’s _your_ boyfriend, so I shouldn’t have to tell you what or what not to do,” Peter blurted out angrily.

“Oh... you think...” All of the venom seeped out of Janine with the realization that Peter was not complaining about staying with Egon. He was under the misconception that Janine was dating Egon but was acting like a lousy girlfriend for not rushing to his side after he had been brought into the hospital. “Egon and I...” Janine smiled apologetically at Egon before continuing. “We’re just friends.”

“When did you two break up?” Peter asked in confusion, having lost some of the wind in his sails.

“We were never together,” Janine corrected him. “But that hardly matters. If you don’t want to stay with him, Peter, I’ll gladly take your place.”

“No,” Peter hastily replied. “I just thought... Never mind. I’ll stay with him.”

A few tears trickled down Egon’s cheeks when he felt Peter’s hand absently begin to stroke his hair. But Peter’s attention was on Janine, and hers on him, so neither of them noticed Egon’s emotional lapse.

“Janine... I’m sorry for losing my cool and going off on you like that,” Peter said gruffly. He hated having to apologize for anything, even when he was in the wrong.

“I’ll let it slide this time. Only because it’s Egon we’re fighting over.”


	3. Chapter 3

The drive back from the hospital took far too long in mid-afternoon Saturday traffic. With Ray behind the wheel, instead of Winston, they were cut off numerous times by aggressive drivers and other morons who underestimated how long Ecto was in front. It was a miracle that nobody sideswiped them or took out one of their headlights while overtaking them. Normally, Ray was an absolute snail with no backbone when he was in charge of the driving, but today he was speeding up in annoyance and blowing the horn whenever someone tried to cut in. Being told off by Winston only seemed to rile him up further, which nearly ended in him rear-ending a truck he’d been tailgating.

By the time Ray pulled into Ghostbusters Headquarters, Peter was feeling slightly queasy from the reckless driving and a lack of sleep. He hadn’t said more than a few words to either Ray or Winston since they returned to the hospital. Considering the awful business they had been involved in, Peter was reluctant to ask any questions that he didn’t want to know the answer to. Anyway, neither Ray nor Winston seemed to be in the mood for conversing judging by their tense attitudes and Ray’s bad driving. Peter would have gladly volunteered to drive back _if_ he hadn’t spent the night sitting upright in a hard-as-hell chair watching over Egon. Falling asleep and leaving the physicist unattended, even for an hour or two, was too risky with that monster lurking around. Even if Peter were able to sleep, he was pretty sure that his nightmares would be haunted by the sounds of Egon screaming.

Thankfully, Egon hadn’t put up too much of a fuss over being forced to remain in the hospital overnight for observation. Although it probably had more to do with the fact that the physicist was unnaturally lethargic, and nothing to do with his sudden desire to obediently do as he was medically advised. Peter had wanted to talk to Egon further about what had happened back at the house of bloody horrors, but the blond just hadn’t had the energy for it. So Peter had left the matter alone, whiling away the night with senseless video game apps on his cell phone - with the sound off. Every now and then he paused the game to glance over at Egon. And every time he did so he was struck with an overwhelming sense of fondness and longing. Egon looked so young and vulnerable in his sleep, without his glasses, and without that intense - yet distracted - look of his that let the world know that he took its inner workings far too seriously.More than once Peter had given into the urge to stroke Egon’s hair or tenderly caress his face, feeling immensely grateful that he hadn’t lost him to the carnage that the monster had left behind. To imagine his beautiful friend discarded, broken and bloody like the rest of those corpses, tore Peter’s heart and mind into itty bitty pieces.

Peter knew that Ghostbusting was a very dangerous profession. The things he and his friends came up against on a daily basis was enough to blacklist them from any and every insurance company in the country. Nobody would cover them for their injuries, which is why they directly charged their clients for any hospital bills that they might incur. They had inserted a clause covering any and all medical expenses in their contracts early on in the game, before the free-floating vaporous apparitions had levelled up to possessed machinery, corporeal urban legends, and demons summoned by black magic from an alternate universe. They also ensured that they would receive hazard pay before they took on any dangerous jobs. But Peter usually joked about the way they toyed with their own mortality, using his flippant attitude as a shield to cover up how he really felt. Most of the time he was scared shitless that they were going to come back from a bust with one of them missing an arm or leg, or having been paralyzed from a particularly bad fall. Or worse. No amount of monetary compensation could possibly make up for something like that. So this time Peter found that he couldn’t come up with a single joke to reference what had happened to Egon. He no longer felt cocky and sarcastic, not when he had no idea what had been done to his best friend or how he could best protect him from becoming the next mutilated victim. The reality of the danger Egon was in was burning a hole in Peter’s stomach and messing with his anxiety.

_All those dead bodies..._

The next one might be Egon. _Could_ be Egon...unless Ray and Winston had found the connection between Egon and the other victims. That monster had said that Egon was ‘sweeter than all the rest’. Such a statement practically guaranteed that Egon was now to be the preferred entree on that thing’s menu.

“Egon, we’re home.” As soon as the car came to a full stop, Peter nudged the blond who was resting on his shoulder. Although there was plenty of room in the backseat of Ecto, Peter had scooted in as close to Egon as possible to support him as he slept. Getting Egon to go to bed at night was usually a dreadful chore that none of the Ghostbusters wanted to be tasked with. The physicist could go for long periods of time without sleep or sustenance if he were in the middle of an important experiment or a lengthy bout of research. Of course it wasn’t healthy, and Peter made a point of lecturing him on that fact regularly, but Egon was just as stubborn as the rest of them. Egon would not give up his exploration of science anymore than Ray would stop sleeping with stuffed animals or watching late-night horror movies that gave the rest of them nightmares. And good luck to the poor sucker who dared to tell Winston off for his ongoing modifications on Ecto, or his obsession with mystery novels.

And yet, here Egon was sleeping against Peter as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him. Not that Peter minded. In fact, Peter really liked having Egon so close as it gave him an excuse to behave overly friendly with the blond. A few minutes after Egon had dozed off, Peter had oh so casually wrapped his arm around his best friend. He told himself that he would make an excuse about Egon getting a sore neck if either Ray or Winston commented on the gesture, but neither did. So Peter had spent the past hour and a half with Egon in a half embrace. He wouldn’t have dared to act so boldly in the past, not with the threat of Janine in the background, but he was now over that. Because there was no Janine in the equation and therefore no threat. But was there any competition?

As far as Peter could tell, Egon was free and unattached. He wasn’t sure when Egon had become available but he guessed that it was probably shortly after the fling with that college professor had ended. Come to think of it, Egon had pretty poor taste in men to have settled for that old man. Peter never would have guessed that the blond was sleeping with the retired physics professor because Egon was so discreet with his relationships. The only reason Peter had clued in on what was going on between them was due to the numerous times Egon had returned home past midnight after one of their ‘appointments.’ While Peter originally assumed that Egon was asexual when they had first met back in college, he had corrected his assumptions to gay but under the radar after noticing the way Egon attracted other men - usually stuffy old men that Egon might perhaps be intellectually attracted to. As for being physically attracted to them, well, Egon had to have a fetish for dating men twice his age. Or maybe he had daddy issues that Peter was unaware of. Age aside, Peter wondered how the hell his friend could put out for such unaffectionate cheapskates. When asked about where he had gotten to with the man in question, Egon would casually mention neighborhood coffee shops and 24-hour diners. Peter thought those stingy bastards had some nerve to treat Egon like a cheap hooker by plying him with stale coffee and donuts, and then dragging him off to some flea-infested motel to do the nasty. If Peter were to take Egon out, he would do so in style. Show Egon some good old-fashioned Venkman chivalry, before romancing him properly.

In college, Peter had been the partying type who delighted in instant gratification, mostly of the sexual kind. His relationships had consisted of short attachments or one-night stands, and when alcohol had become boring and predictable, he had ventured into the realm of recreational drugs. For scientific purposes - obviously. And although he had developed a soft spot for the nerdy Egon Spengler, Peter did everything in his power to resist that attraction. For one thing, Egon was pure, naive, and wholesome. For another, the thought of hurting Egon greatly disturbed Peter. He was pretty sure that screwing Egon and tossing him aside when the next sexy young thing came his way would absolutely destroy his devoted friend. So, in the end, Peter had kept his hands off of Egon and his behavior never crossed the line of friendship. Not that he hadn’t been tempted over the years.

But Peter was now a reformed man with the maturity level to match. He was tired of meaningless sex and wanted something more emotional and permanent. He was no longer afraid of commitment or of what his adoring public might think of him. If it meant that he could have Egon, Peter would gladly take himself off of the market and let the tabloids print whatever they liked. Besides, Egon was no longer the innocent undergraduate whom Peter had been afraid to trust himself with. The risk of corrupting Egon had been negated by whichever professor had corrupted him first. However, the thought of Egon in bed with another man really brought out the green-eyed monster in Peter.

“Peter, I can help Egon upstairs.”

Peter looked up to find Ray at the open door beside Egon, crouching down to grab hold of the blond’s arm.

“I’m fine, Ray. I don’t require assistance,” Egon protested. It was an interesting reaction considering the fact that Egon had been willing to allow Peter to help him out. Another reason why Peter was now willing to cross the line from friendship into _something else._ Peter was certain without a doubt that the attraction he felt for Egon was not a one-sided thing.

“You look a little sleepy. Can’t have you falling down the stairs, can we?” Egon was halfway out of Ecto, having made no comment about the way Peter had been holding him, when Ray moved forward again to help him.

Peter was about to intervene, just for the sake of having an excuse to touch Egon again, when he felt Winston’s hand roughly clamp down on his bicep as he got out.

“Man, we need to talk,” Winston said in a low, conspiratorial tone as he held Peter back.

“Can it wait?” Peter tried not to sound too irritated to have had his plans to get Egon alone thwarted. There were so many things that he needed to say to his friend and comrade, and many more things that he wanted to do to him.

“No, it can’t.”

“Well, don’t be all cryptic or anything,” Peter muttered sarcastically, watching Ray hovering over Egon as the blond made his way up the stairs - unaided - by leaning heavily onto the banister. Peter settled his back against Ecto’s door frame and folded his arms across his chest as he waited for Winston to get on with it. “If this is about Egon’s proton pack...” Ray had probably been yapping behind Peter’s back about the risk of an unattended portable nuclear accelerator causing an explosion that could take out several zip codes at once.

But Winston merely shook his head and leaned in closer so that they wouldn’t be overheard. “Nah, man, it’s got nothing to do with the pack. Although, between you and me, that was a real dumbass thing to do. If Ray hadn’t seen you do it, we might’ve left the damn thing inside that house. And who knows what would’ve happened then.”

“Then it’s a good thing Ray saw me do it,” Peter quipped with no remorse.

“Whatever.” Winston rolled up the sleeves of his light blue uniform, shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and then scratched at the back of his neck before speaking again. He seemed very uncomfortable and nervous, as well as deeply affected by something traumatic. Rummaging through the scene of multiple murders probably had something to do with it. “I won’t get into the details of what we had to do back there,” he began.

_Thank God for small miracles_, Peter thought to himself.

“But you ought to know that the coroner’s office has already conducted five autopsies. Nothing is conclusive and they’ve still got another nineteen bodies to get to...”

“_Nineteen_?!” Peter blurted out. “You’re trying to tell me that there were twenty-four victims in there?!” He quickly jumped in before Winston could continue. “So you’ve discovered the link between Egon and those murdered teens? What is it? Cultural? Blood type? IQ levels?”

“We don’t know what the connection is.”

“Then what—?”

“We only know how they all died.” This time Winston rushed on before Peter could interrupt him. “They were all... _violated_... before they were fed on.”

“Violated...?” Peter’s tone lost all its inflection as he stupidly asked for clarification to a question that he already knew the answer to. “How?” There was only one way to physically violate a person that Peter knew of. But surely nothing paranormal was capable of such an atrocity. Maybe Winston was confusing his words...?

“Don’t ask me that,” Winston warned in a dark tone that matched his disgusted expression. “And don’t ask me if the victims were all female either, because they weren’t.”

Peter felt the blood drain from his face as the threat to Egon’s life and safety became a lot more specific and incomprehensible. Had Egon been sexually assaulted by that _thing_? Was that why he had not been forthcoming with the details of his attack? That would also explain his reaction to it. “Could the coroner have made a mistake?” Peter knew he was desperately grasping for an ulterior motive, but one look at Winston’s face told him that everything else had been ruled out.

“No,” Winston replied simply. “Ray and I have a theory...”

“Oh, good. Maybe it’ll explain why that monster targeted our vanilla physicist instead of someone who’s actually had experience with getting laid by a paranormal entity - no offence to Ray. I mean, c’mon. Can you imagine Egon experimenting with some of the fetishes that these kids get into nowadays?”

“The majority of those teens came from educated backgrounds and decent families. That’s not what Ray and I were thinking.”

“Then what _were_ you thinking?”

“That maybe they were virgins.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding!” Peter breathed a sigh of relief. “Then Egon’s off the hook.”

“You do know that the relationship between Egon and Janine is platonic?” Winston said in all seriousness. “Which makes his behavior even more suspicious for not denying your accusations whenever you tease him about it.”

“Yeah, I just found that out. But no, I was referring to his other relationships. Like that thing he had going on over the summer with Professor Whatsisname. You know, the balding guy with the sideburns and safety clip on his tie.”

“_Peter_! That’s an awful thing to accuse Egon of,” Ray chided as he appeared from the bottom of the staircase. “And poor Professor Abernathy. He just lost his son to leukemia last year. Professor Abernathy has always considered Egon to be like a surrogate son to him, which is why they were spending so much time together. And just last month, the professor flew down south with his wife to get away for a while, which is why Egon hasn’t seen him lately. How could you have thought that Egon would date a man that old?”

Things were getting all jumbled up inside of Peter’s head. The more he heard, the less he understood. Egon hadn’t been sexually involved with Abernathy? “Then what about the other guy?”

“_What_ other guy?” Ray asked in exasperation. “The only other guy I know is Janine’s uncle, and he’s a priest. Egon was teaching him how to use a computer.”

Now feeling like he was caught in a trap, Peter sharply glanced from Winston to Ray, and then back again. “Are you trying to tell me that you think Egon’s a _virgin_?! And that this sadistic creature goes around raping and maiming virgins?!”

“That’s exactly what we’re saying,” Winston worriedly admitted.

Peter didn’t know what to think of the information he’d just been given. He was completely at a loss as to how to process it. But now was not the time to suddenly stop functioning. He had to keep going, regardless of how shocked he felt about the rapes and Egon still being pure and innocent.

“Peter, where’re you going?” Ray asked.

Already grabbing for the banister, Peter replied without looking back. “To protect Egon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It would be lovely to read a comment or two, if anyone has the time - or inclination - to leave one. :)))


	4. Chapter 4

Over the years, Ray had grown accustomed to the sometimes erratic way that Egon worked while he was inventing new tech. He often had one heck of a time wading through the clutter of hand drawn schematics and leftover parts that Egon discarded wherever he pleased as he was progressing through his project-of-the-hour. It was not at all unusual for Egon to produce multiple inventions in one day, if he was feeling particularly energetic or inspired. Not all of them would be adopted into their everyday lives, and some of them might not serve a useful purpose, but that didn’t make them any less wonderful to play with. However, while it was common to find the lab screwed up beyond recognition - or occasionally sporting holes and burn marks from uncontrolled explosions - Egon never usually touched the bedroom.

So, when Ray entered the bedroom in search of the physicist, and stumbled upon the chaotic mess it had become, he gasped in shock.

Egon had utilized every available space in the room. There were pages and pages of hastily scrawled notes and schematics littering Peter’s bed, electronic parts on Winston’s and Ray’s, various tomes left open on Egon’s bed, a laptop dangerously positioned on Egon’s nightstand, cords and wires trailing every which way along the floorboard area, and a proton pack lying fully charged in the middle of the floor. And those were only the objects that Ray could actually identify.

“Ray, so nice of you to join us,” Peter muttered from the corner of the room where he was hiding. It appeared to be the only place he could safely stand without getting in Egon’s way. “Egon, Ray’s here. You’re going to play nice now and take a break. Let Ray continue making those little rat traps of yours.”

“Rat traps?” Ray questioned in confusion.

“They aren’t rat traps. They’re ultra sensitive PKE sensors designed to pick up any traces of paranormal energy that come within range of them. Their secondary function is to work as motion sensors in order to detect anything corporeal,” Egon corrected Peter from where he was programming one of the small devices, in front of the bedroom window. “Everything will be connected to a central defence grid, which will set off a proximity alert if anything comes within two feet of the sensors. The most infinitesimal semblance of air displacement or coalescence of ectoplasm will trigger the alarm. No manner of creature - whether it be phantasmic or semi-corporeal - will be able to infiltrate our base of operations while we are unawares.”

“Our _home_, Egon. This is where we eat, sleep, and watch crappy reality shows because there’s nothing else on by the time we get off work at night.”

Ray frowned as he listened to Peter go about his usual routine of playfully teasing Egon. Thinking that Peter intended to have a heart-to-heart discussion with Egon, Ray and Winston had left the psychologist alone with the physicist. Peter was the expert on the human mind and behavior, after all. And he had been acting awfully overprotective of Egon since the incident at that house, so Ray thought it best to give Peter a chance to get through to their introverted friend. If anyone was capable of accomplishing such a feat, it was the great Peter Venkman - along with his bloated ego. But now, nearly forty-five minutes after Peter had rushed upstairs after Egon, there were absolutely no signs of any sort of mature conversation having taken place. If anything, it seemed like Peter was reluctant to confront Egon about the matter at hand. And, what was worse, there also existed the possibility that Egon was aware of the nature of the threat he was faced with. That was the only explanation for Egon’s sudden obsession with a personalized home security system.

When it came to creating the technology necessary for combatting the spectres, poltergeists, and demigods that the Ghostbusters ordinarily found themselves up against, Egon was always one step ahead of the game. That was why Ray admired him so much. The man was a literal genius who could often anticipate what was required before the others were even aware of what it was they were fighting. Egon’s imagination was limitless where offensive weapons were concerned. Nobody else would have thought of inventing an atomic destabilizer in order to put demons on the same playing field as ghosts, never mind had the intelligence to construct the weapon itself. Egon would never allow his colleagues - his _brothers_ \- to enter any battle ill prepared. So what was he doing now?

Picking up one of Egon’s _rat traps_ from the growing pile on the floor by the window, Ray turned it over in his hands and furrowed his brow in frustration. The sensors were exactly what Egon claimed them to be - nothing but sensors. And, judging by the sheer number of them, Egon intended to install them on every access point in the building. In other words, the physicist was concentrating all his efforts solely on a defensive strategy.

Ignoring Peter for the time being, Ray wandered around the room, flipping through Egon’s hastily drawn schematics, turning over a copy of Tobin’s Spirit Guide in bewilderment, and then peering at the laptop screen that was automatically entering line of code after line of code.

“Egon, what have you got the computer doing?” Ray casually asked.

“I’ve created an effective algorithm for accessing data from the police network revolving around the case in question. Since I was not present for the investigative procedure, it only seemed logical that I—.”

“You’re hacking into the police network?!” Peter exclaimed in dismay.

“There is nothing in those files that you need to see,” Ray said at the same time. He could hear the foreign layer of ice masking his tone, as well as feel the uncharacteristic way his hands clenched at his sides. What he had seen... The horrendous way those youths had been forced to serve a creature with such a sadistic sexual appetite... If Egon was scared now, opening his eyes to the fate that monster wished upon him would send him over the edge. Ray, on the other hand, could not unsee what he had already seen. If necessary, he would seek counseling from Peter, when time permitted. But, for now...

“What are you doing?!” Egon abandoned his pet project by the window and came rushing back to the bedside the instant Ray performed a hard shutdown on the laptop.

In all the years that Ray had known Egon, he had never seen him looking so lost and afraid. It was disheartening to watch the blond frantically try to abort the shutdown after the screen had already gone black. Egon was still wearing his pink button down shirt and brown slacks, with the red suspenders, that he had been taken to the hospital in. The collar was partially torn on the right side and stained with blood, revealing the bandages covering Egon’s shoulder. The physicist’s complexion was also a little too bloodless for Ray’s liking, and the way he staggered when he lifted his head from the laptop was a genuine cause for concern.

It was at that point that Peter came to life, springing away from the wall, rushing across the room, and grasping Egon by the arms. He forced the blond to sit down on the bed, before sitting beside him. “Ray, do you think you could just focus on the sensors?” Peter suggested in a meaningful tone as he steadied Egon with a supportive arm.

No, Ray was not going to do that. Was Peter a complete idiot? Peter should have prevented Egon from attempting something so stupid as an outright invasion into the police network’s database. Not only was it illegal, but those crime scene photos would disturb someone as innocent as Egon on a very deep level. And Tobin’s Spirit Guide?! Who the hell was Egon trying to kid? Even Peter ought to know that the manner of beast they needed to identify would not be found in that tome, or in any of the others that Egon had purposefully left open on his bed.

“You see what’s going on here, don’t you?” The stress and tension from the previous day began to seep into Ray’s tone and gaze, hardening both as he made eye contact with Peter. “Maybe he can fool you, but he can’t fool me.” Paying no attention to the cutting throat gesture that Peter abruptly made with his hand, Ray thrust the open supernatural encyclopedia into Peter’s face. “He’s got the guide open to level four valences, which are totally irrelevant to what we’re looking for. Meanwhile, he’s got this stowed away under his pillow.” Unceremoniously, Ray yanked the hidden tome out from under Egon’s pillow, nearly ripping off its flaking cover in his haste. “Ancient Phenomena, demons, and human sacrifices,” he read accusingly. “Tiptoeing around the topic isn’t helping anyone, Peter. Not those sacrificed rape victims, and not Egon. Especially since Egon seems to know more than he’s letting on.”

“What?” Egon was now looking at Ray in complete shock. Like perhaps he hadn’t been aware of the horrors that those teenagers had been subjected to.

“Damn it, Ray!” Peter just about shouted as he came to Egon’s defence. “Do you ever think before you open your mouth?!”

“You’re never done exercising your mouth,” Ray retaliated in a raised voice. “But what are you actually doing to help Egon? You’re just idly standing by, watching him fall apart at the seams. Not only did you let him take a crack at the police network, but you’ve also done nothing to stop his assembly line of ridiculous motion sensors. And Tobin’s Spirit Guide?! Really?!” Ray paused for a moment when Egon pushed himself off of the bed and stormed out of the room. Before Peter could follow, Ray exploded. “Winston and I thought you were going to talk to him, but the only thing you came up here to do was laze about and take up space. What kind of psychologist are you? He’s your _best_ friend, and you don’t even have the decency to try and talk to him?”

For several seconds, Peter stood poised near the door, ready to go after Egon. But his jaw was rigid and he might actually have been grinding his teeth. Then, Peter turned to Ray in a very controlled manner. “If you were anyone else, I’d punch your lights out,” he said in a dangerously soft tone. “For your information, it takes longer than a few minutes to access someone’s mental state. Especially someone as emotionally fragile as Egon is right now. By allowing him to build those sensors, we’re giving him the opportunity to temporarily benefit from a feeling of empowerment. Have you taken a good look at him? He’s on the verge of losing it and that defence system he’s so keen on is one of the few things that he is in control of at the moment. As for the rest of the bullshit books that he has lying around... Do you really think that I’m so stupid that I can’t tell the difference between a freaking ghost and a demonic entity? I’ve got the scars to prove that what attacked Egon was no ghost.”

“You’ve got an excuse for everything, haven’t you?” Ray snapped back at him. “What would you have done if he’d pulled up those autopsy photos? Do you have any idea of how extensive the damage was? Those kids were literally torn apart!”

“That one I’m not taking credit for,” Peter snarled. “You and everyone else in here knows how shitty my computer skills are. I wouldn’t know the difference between a police database and an RPG game! But I sure as hell wouldn’t _let_ Egon access those photos. Not if I knew what he was doing.”

“HEY! Lower your frickin’ voices before someone in the neighborhood reports a domestic dispute!” Winston came barreling into the room, putting himself between them. “Why the hell’re you bitchin’ at each other? Where’s Egon?”

“As it turns out, _Doctor_ Venkman doesn’t appear to be making any progress with him,” Ray replied.

“Ray, cool it.” Winston raised his hands in a gesture that was probably supposed to promote peace, but it just came off as patronizing.

“Egon got a good enough look at the victims yesterday to piece together what we’re up against,” Ray said as he glared at Peter’s red face. “_And_ he suspects that our foe is targeting virgins, otherwise he wouldn’t have started to put together this pathetic excuse for a defence grid when what we really need are offensive weapons and some tactical information.”

Peter was murderously silent, listening to Ray finish with his speculation, until he was given the opportunity to voice his own opinion. “First, I’m gonna let you off easy, Ray. You’re dealing with a hell of a lot of trauma right now and I don’t envy you for it. I don’t think that I would’ve had the stomach to look at any of those bodies up close, much less try and figure out the cause of death. But you’re wrong about Egon. You have no idea what he’s thinking or feeling, and you have no clue as to how to deal with him. Do you think that creature was just interested in sampling his blood? Judging by Egon’s reaction to the attack, and his subsequent withdrawn behavior, I’m pretty damn sure that he was sexually assaulted by that thing. So, yeah, Egon knows what he’s being threatened with. But, up until a few minutes ago, he probably only suspected the sacrifice part. Now, thanks to you, he’s gotta worry about rape.”

All of Ray’s anger deflated as soon as those words left Peter’s mouth. “But, he couldn’t have been... He would have said something,” he protested.

“No offence, Ray, but what experience do you have with victims of sexual assault? You think that Egon would just come out and say that he was touched by that thing? Would someone with his frame of reference even know how to categorize such an attack?”

“Alright, Pete, you can stop schooling us on your profession now. We respect that you know how to treat Egon. Don’t we, Ray?” Winston elbowed Ray in the side to get his point across. “We’re in uncharted territory with this mess that we’ve gotten ourselves involved in and the last thing we need right now is to be infighting. None of us are gonna stand a chance against this sexual predator unless we work together. And get some sleep. You both look like you could use some cos you look like shit.”

“Speak for yourself,” Peter retorted lightly.

“I’m serious, man. Neither of you are helping Egon by starting an internal war. You both care about Egon - I get it - but fighting over him won’t prove who cares about him most. We’ve gotta cover all our bases, which means that we leave the psychoanalysis to Pete. And Ray, seeing as how Egon’s not in the right state of mind to contribute much in the weapons department, we’ll leave that up to you. This isn’t the first time that we’ve had to make due without our boy genius.”

“And what are you going to do?” Ray asked.

Winston gingerly picked up the battered tome on demons and sacrifices, which Ray had left lying on the comforter, swearing under his breath as he did so. “Where’re the damn pictures?” He leafed through the thousand or so pages, picking pages at random, but seeing nothing but paragraphs and paragraphs of old stylized text.

“You won’t find any illustrations in _that_ book. The text alone is dangerous enough without adding the possibly cursed likenesses of any of those demons. Just being in possession of that book is potentially dangerous. I don’t know how Egon managed to get his hands on it.” Although, Ray was slightly envious of Egon’s resourcefulness and wished that he had found the book first. Collecting ancient books was more Ray’s thing than Egon’s.

“I was gonna offer to do some research but I’m afraid that my Latin is subpar compared to Egon’s. What the hell does _usella mituti Ikkalu baltuti_ mean?”

“That’s not Latin, that’s Sumerian,” Ray groaned in defeat. “Egon’s the only one who can read it.”

“Why’d they even bother putting an English title on the book if they weren’t gonna translate it?” Acting more than a little miffed, Winston tossed the book back onto Egon’s bed. “Now what am I gonna do?”

Thankfully, an idea had already sprung to Ray’s mind. It would keep Winston occupied and maybe allow Egon to rest a little easier. “You’re good with mechanics. How about you reverse engineer one of these sensors and then finish the rest of them off?There are a bunch of schematics for... _something_...,” Ray gestured to the barely legible drawings that Egon had scattered all over the place. “But they don’t seem to relate to the sensors. Anyway, if these amateurish devices will make Egon feel more secure in here, then I don’t see a problem with installing them. But I’d hate to see the electricity bill after they’re up and running.” Passing a sensor to Winston, Ray begrudgingly nodded at Peter. “I’ll handle the weapons and you handle Egon. Deal?”

“Deal,” Peter replied in as civil a tone as possible.

But, as Ray watched Peter leave the room in search of Egon, he couldn’t help but feel resentful towards the Ghostbusters’ self-appointed leader. Because while Winston had been lecturing them about not trying to prove who cared for Egon the most, a hard glint had entered Peter’s eyes that seemed to say, ‘_nobody cares about Egon as much as I do.’_


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger warning** for content that may upset sensitive readers.

The kitchen seemed the least likely place for either Ray or Peter to wander into while dishes were being washed, so that’s where Egon retreated to. He had been reluctant to leave Peter’s side, especially since he felt safest in the presence of his best friend, but he wanted no part of the argument that Peter had gotten into with Ray. If there was one thing that Egon avoided in life, it was conflict. He disliked listening to raised voices and profanity came across as uncivilized gibberish to him. Usually, the more forceful a quarrel became, the more likely it would involve impolite and derogatory terminology. Both Peter and Ray - well, mostly Peter - were quite well versed in words beginning with the letters ‘f’, ‘a’, and ‘s’.

Egon found that he was too tired and wound up to tolerate anymore negativity. And he certainly didn’t want to listen to Ray accusing him of not performing his duties adequately. It hurt to be accused of deception when all Egon had intended to do was handle the problem of the demon on his own. Above all else, Egon felt that he had the right to be furious with Ray for shutting down his computer in mid-operation. What had Ray been afraid of him seeing? The others had wormed their way around the law in the past and gotten away with it, but when Egon did it he got scolded like a disobedient child. Not only had he felt humiliated by Ray’s outburst, but he was also irritated to have had his laptop treated like a handheld video game. One did not just go around improperly shutting down computers without risking damage to the operating system.

“Geez! Egon! You scared the heck outta me!” Janine clutched at her chest with the dish towel, having turned from the sink to put away one of the dishes only to find Egon hovering directly behind her.

“My apologies, Janine. I was merely...” What had he been doing? Egon wasn’t sure why he hadn’t just left the building for some fresh air. He was surely not in the mood for conversing with anyone at the moment.

“Are you okay?” Janine asked in a softer tone as she peered up into his face. “You look a little pale.”

“Perhaps it’s from a lack of sunlight,” Egon surmised. “The last few days have been remarkably dark.”

“Egon, you spent nearly a whole day in a hospital room with the curtains drawn,” Janine reminded him. “That might have something to do with it.” Then, assuming her no-nonsense persona, she took Egon by the forearms, guided him to a chair, and pushed him down into it. “If you’re gonna spy on me washing the dishes, do so with your butt in the chair, please. Just looking at you is making me nervous.”

“Why would I be making you nervous?” Egon asked in bewilderment.

“You may be thin but you’re awfully tall. If you pass out, I’m not gonna be able to catch you. And if that happens, Doctor V will never let me live it down. Oh, that man’ll hold a grudge till Doomsday,” she said with a scowl.

For some reason, the thought of Peter getting angry at anyone on his behalf made Egon feel uncomfortably hot. The feeling was very similar to the one that he’d had upon waking up in the hospital to find Peter still at his bedside. Even with dark circles under his eyes and sporting a lot of facial hair, Peter remained quite a spectacular sight to behold. Perhaps it had something to do with the brunette’s level of confidence. The psychologist could probably run around in his boxers without losing his dignity or the respect of his fellow man.

Egon often found himself drawing on Peter’s strength and self-assuredness, as if those personality traits were contagious. And in return, Egon explained the world of the paranormal in terms that were easy enough for Peter - the slacker - to comprehend. They made a great team by compensating for what the other was lacking. However, Egon firmly believed that Peter could excel a lot more successfully in life if he just made the effort. The man was not a dullard by any means, even though he made pretending to be one part of his daily routine.

“You’re not angry, are you?” Janine asked while drying and putting away the dishes.

“Why would I be angry?”

“Because I outed you in front of Peter.”

“I beg your pardon?” Egon stared at the petite redhead in disbelief and betrayal.

“I just couldn’t lie about you and me. We’re not dating. And when Peter said all those nasty things about me not caring about you...”

So that was what Janine was so concerned about. For a moment, Egon worried that she might have had a more direct conversation with Peter behind his back. “I hardly think that denying our involvement equates to you _outing_ me,” Egon pointed out. That word was fairly new in Egon’s vocabulary, having been introduced by Janine herself during one of their frequent outings together. They had never had any chemistry together, which Egon was entirely to blame for, but they got along well on shopping trips. Janine needed someone to keep her company and confide in, and Egon required someone who would stick by him and accept him for who he was. The only problem was that Egon had never really understood who he was or what was missing from his life until Janine came out and identified it for him.

“That’s not what Peter thinks.”

Janine may as well have poured ice water over Egon’s head for the shock her words gave him. “What are you implying? What does Peter think?” If Peter had even an inkling of what went on in Egon’s head while they were together, his best friend would shun him for life. All those hugs, those shared evenings in front of the TV, the warmth of Peter’s smile... they would be withdrawn forever if Peter were to find out how Egon was inappropriately interpreting them.

Now looking much more serious, Janine pulled up a seat beside Egon and sat down in it, crossing her legs as she did so. “Let me tell you something, Egon. I’ve worked a lot of shitty part-time jobs and associated myself with a lot of different weirdos. So I think that I’m fairly good at reading people. You agree with me so far, don’t you? I can read you pretty well... I mean I played dumb for a while, but I finally opened my eyes after you’d blown me off like a million times. But you didn’t even know you were into guys until I caught you eyeing Dr. V’s grossly sweaty pecs after a workout. You looked so guilty - like a little boy with an open issue of Playgirl. It still amazes me that _he_ didn’t notice the way you were drooling over him.”

“_Janine_, what is the purpose of this embarrassing monologue?” Egon interrupted as his heart began to beat erratically. He remembered all too well what Peter looked like after a workout, as well as how it made him feel. However, his physical attraction to Peter was nowhere near as potent as his emotional dependency on his best friend. Egon relied heavily on Peter in order to fulfill his psychological needs, reinforce his sense of social belonging, and provide stability for his unbalanced self-esteem. On a more basic level, Egon needed to keep Peter close because it made him happy, and happiness was something that he hadn’t had a lot of earlier on in life.

“Your attraction to Peter might not be as one-sided as you think,” Janine concluded. Having anticipated the possibility of hurting Egon with such an unfounded belief, she quickly moved on with her proof. “You must have noticed that he treats you differently than he does Ray or Winston. He always has, hasn’t he? But ever since you got taken to the hospital, that man has been hyper-vigilant. He won’t leave your side and he’s acting all confrontational with everyone over you. And it isn’t only me. I heard him and Ray going at it a few minutes ago. Now what was _that_ all about?”

“Do not make the mistake of confusing friendship with something entirely different,” Egon warned with a twinge of defensive hostility in his voice. In his mind, there was nothing worse than being given false hope that Peter would ever reciprocate any of the feelings that Egon had for him. If he were ever to lose Peter’s friendship...

“Why is it so difficult for you to believe that someone might be romantically interested in you?”

“That is not the point in question. You are inventing feelings where there are none. Peter is entirely and irrefutably heterosexual.”

“That’s not the way he acts around you,” she insisted.

“Janine, I must request that you cease and desist this line of conversation before it leads to a misunderstanding.”

“Damn, you men are stubborn,” Janine hissed. “You need to be dragged kicking and screaming to the truth—. What?”

_The virginal sacrifices are dragged kicking and screaming to the pit in which they are to be burned._

Egon had translated that passage from Sumerian on page 347 of _Ancient Phenomena, demons, and human sacrifices_. That page, and the twelve or so following it, had described an ancient demon that fed on the purity of virgins, only sacrificing them once they had been drained to a certain point. Aside from the burning, the remainder of the description had seemed to coincide with the creature they had encountered at that haunted mansion. Egon just assumed that the demon had been interrupted and therefore unable to carry out its final task when the Ghostbusters ran into it. But there was one detail that Ray mentioned that did not support the conclusion that Egon had made about the demon. Initially, Egon had blocked Ray’s words from his mind because he hadn’t been prepared to deal with them, but now he appeared to be having a delayed reaction to them.

None of the sacrifices in the chapter of the book Egon was focusing on had been raped. And by raped, Egon understood it to mean penetrative intercourse, which was extremely... _disconcerting_...

The room swam like a wave had washed over it, causing Egon to grimace and temporarily shut his eyes to will it to stop.

“Egon?”

“I think that I’m going to be ill.” Blindly groping for the edge of the table, Egon gripped it, pushed himself to his feet, and hastened for the bathroom.

Retreating to the bathroom situated next to the bedroom, where he figured he would get the most privacy, Egon locked the door and leaned heavily against it. He could no longer block out or compartmentalize what Ray had said about those teenagers. They had been rape victims, which meant that _thing_ \- that monstrous _thing_ \- had not only forced itself on them, but also _in_ them. Such an act not only struck Egon as filthy and obscene, but also physically incomprehensible. For an abomination that satanically endowed to attempt a sexual coupling with a human improperly designed to accommodate that level of brutality...

Egon rushed to the sink, removed his glasses, placed them on the narrow shelf under the mirror, and opened the faucet wide. He splashed cold water on his face in the attempt to get himself under control and erase the visual imagery from his mind. No wonder Ray had shut down the computer. Ray and Winston had been on site assisting the police in their investigation, which meant that they had seen firsthand how incompatible that beast was with humans. Did that mean that Ray suspected Egon was a virgin? What about Peter? Did they all know and were just pretending not to in order to be kind?

_How could I have been so foolish? So naive?_

Swallowing some of the tap water to ease his dry throat and the nausea that accompanied it, Egon closed his eyes tightly and tried to concentrate. He would need to open the Sumerian encyclopedia again, this time to the last section on the vilest demons imaginable, and identify what it was they were up against before it struck again. This was not the time for Egon to be allowing his personal emotions to get in the way of his work. There were too many questions that needed to be answered and he was the only one in any position to answer them.

{_Your scent is strong, human. Even halfway across the city, I can taste you on my tongue.}_

Every fiber of Egon’s being froze for a split second before the adrenaline kicked in. Years of training with the Ghostbusters had honed his reflexes, as well as boosted his improvisational skills. He spun around with Peter’s shaver in his hand, slicing it through the air in the general vicinity he believed the voice to be in. He thought that he made contact with something, although he couldn’t be sure because his sight was acutely impaired without his glasses.

“Pe—! _Mmph_!” A rough leathery hand clamped to Egon’s mouth, silencing him, and then he was being shoved backwards. The shaver was knocked from his hand before he could strike again and his back was forced up against the tiled wall.

{_You wield your Ghostbusting weapon with sufficient expertise, but without it you are nothing but a weak human with no combat skills.}_

Egon grabbed onto the creature’s wrist with both hands, trying to push it back or force the fingers away from his mouth. He might as well have been grappling with a formation of rocks for the demon would not budge.

{_I find it curious that a human male of your age would still be this pure. You are young and physically appealing, but long past the age of maturity.}_

The demon began to materialize and coalesce in front of Egon, becoming a blur of hard black and purple muscles. It was at least a foot taller than him and twice as large, boasting powerful arms and legs. Egon could barely make out a pair of glowing red eyes that looked to him like blurry traffic lights. He renewed his struggles when the beast moved in closer to snag the collar of his shirt with one sharp claw. Then, in one swift movement, it tore Egon’s shirt open, ripping the shredded material off of him, along with the suspenders that were holding his slacks in place. One of the clips from the suspenders snapped up to clip Egon’s face, causing him to make a startled noise of pain.

{_You don’t seem defective, but I’ve only just begun my exploration of your tender flesh.}_

Now outright panicking, Egon bit at the hand restraining him, trying to scream around it but finding that he couldn’t for the large fingers that were bruising his lips as they tried to force entry into his mouth. He shivered violently and tried kicking out at the demon when it ran its other leathery hand over his chest, down the plane of his abdomen, and attempted to shove its way down the front of his pants.

{_Oh, you are sweet. You’ve never been touched in this manner, have you? If you are giving off this much energy with minimal contact, I delight to think what will be released when I claim you completely, virgin.}_

Never before had Egon felt such disgust and revulsion, or such terror and despair. He was exhausting himself trying to fight off this demon when all it needed to restrain him was one hand. Tears of helplessness and fear leaked out of the corner of Egon’s eyes as he continued to fight back. If he could only make enough noise, someone might hear... Someone might come...

Egon howled with pain when his slacks were raked down his legs with the zipper still intact, the fabric burning into his skin and rubbing his legs raw. He should have expected this level of violence. Should have prepared for it. But he’d assumed that he would have more time to install the sensors and formulate a means of defeating this monster. Never in his most horrific nightmares had he imagined such a vile creature attacking him in his own home.

There was nothing Egon could use as a weapon and he was now running out of time. If someone didn’t come to his aid soon, the demon would destroy him and be done with it. Dying for a just cause Egon was okay with. Each and every Ghostbuster was prepared to give his life to save the world or the lives of innocents at any time, should they be forced into such a scenario. But allowing his body to be used for the pleasure of something so inherently evil was not alright with Egon. He would rather die than let that monstrosity make a mockery of his innocence. And dying seemed like a less painful outcome than being impaled by the wicked demonic organ that was now rubbing against his belly.

“_Nnnggh_!” Egon made a desperate, frustrated sound of outrage when the demon grabbed for the waistband of his boxers. Left with nothing to defend himself with, he undid the band on his wristwatch, pulled his arm back and lashed out as hard as he could. It bounced off of something and then clattered to the floor. Egon had no way of knowing whether he’d actually hit the demon or not.

{_Pathetic_.} Something that sounded like a laugh rumbled in the demon’s chest. {_If not for your superior intellect, you would be nothing but a liability to your fellow Ghostbusters.}_ It mocked him.

The next thing Egon knew he was being thrown to the floor onto his hands and knees. His hands slapped hard against the porcelain tiling, but his knees whacked even harder, possibly resulting in a patellar fracture in his left knee. Egon groaned and sank down to his elbows, trying to ride out the pain before the beast was upon him. But he wasn’t given a split second to recover before his head was yanked back by his longish hair, and his legs were kicked apart by a clawed foot that scratched up his calves.

Already, the pain of being manhandled so aggressively was quite substantial. Egon still couldn’t scream because of the way his hair was being pulled. It was straining the muscles in his throat while giving him an extraordinary headache.

“Stop... please,” Egon pleaded hoarsely.

{_That’s more like it. You are no different from the others. They all begged in the end.}_

When his boxers were pulled down and a leathery hand raked across his buttocks, one clawed finger trying to gain access to a delicate area of Egon’s body where no one had ever touched him before, Egon pulled forward with all his might and screamed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **More warnings** for disturbing content that might offend some readers.

Peter literally ran into Janine on his way into the kitchen, nearly knocking her to the floor. “Shit! Sorry.”

“Wouldja watch where you’re going?!” Janine screeched at him. “And get your hands off of me!” She slapped his hands off of her waist and took a rocky step backwards. “Oh great. You’ve gone and busted my heel.” She hunched over, slipped off the red high heel from her right foot and waved it menacingly at Peter’s face. “Don’t think I won’t bill you for this.”

“Oh, I know you will,” Peter said sarcastically as he withdrew to a safe distance. The fiery redhead seemed to have the knack for turning anything and everything into workplace harassment - even the attempt to save her from falling on her ass. Well, Janine was definitely getting scratched off of Peter’s _damsel-in-distress_ list. The next time she could fall on her ass and Peter would just stand by and snicker. “I mean, I may as well pay for your shoes because I’m already paying for your nail polish, your bubblegum, and your hair dye.”

“_Prick_!” Janine shot back. “I so do _not_ dye my hair!”

“Tell it to someone who cares,” Peter said with an exaggerated shrug.

“What crawled up your butt and died?” Janine crouched down low to the floor and reached under the table in search of the small white plastic bottle she had dropped in the collision.

“Ray,” Peter grumbled without thinking.

“That’s gotta suck.”

“You have no idea.” Then, avoiding looking down so that he wouldn’t accidentally see what Janine was revealing by bending over that way, Peter casually cleared his throat and peered around the kitchen. “You haven’t seen Egon, have you? I can’t find him anywhere.”

“You just missed him.” Janine popped back up with a bottle of Dramamine capsules in one hand. “He went back down to the second floor. Said he wasn’t feeling well. I think all that recycled hospital air made him feel nauseated.”

“Janine, hospitals don’t use recycled air.” Peter gave her a funny look. “You’re probably thinking of airplanes.”

“Then why don’t they ever open the windows?”

“Maybe because that particular hospital is located in the industrial area... Actually, you’re right. The air was probably recycled.” Peter held out his hand and looked expectantly at Janine. If Egon was feeling sick, then Peter was going to be the one to look after him. After all, Peter was the one with the framed PhD in psychology certificate hanging in his office. If anyone had any right to be distributing drugs in the workplace, it was Doctor Peter Venkman. Besides, he was very concerned to hear that Egon was experiencing symptoms of nausea on top of everything else. Before giving Egon anything he wanted to verify that the physicist was suffering from physical symptoms and not supernatural ones.

“What? You don’t trust me to give them to Egon?”

“I trust you with Egon. I wouldn’t trust you with my steak knife though.” Sighing, Peter toned down some of his anger because he realized it was misplaced. Sometimes he allowed himself to get a bit carried away when trading insults with the short-tempered receptionist. “I just don’t want Egon taking anything until we know what’s going on with him.”

“He was acting a bit strange now that you mention it.” Janine handed over the medicine and gave Peter a searching look. “You know, most of the time I can’t stand your guts,” she said in a forthright tone. “But I can’t outright hate you because I know how much Egon means to you.”

“Why wouldn’t Egon mean something to me?” Peter asked suspiciously. “He’s my best friend.” Was it his imagination or was Janine adding a bit of extra stress and meaning to some of her words. “Anyway it’s nice to know that the feeling is mutual between us. Probably the only reason why I haven’t docked your pay for your bad attitude is because Egon would stop speaking to me. But I can’t figure out why he cares so much if you’re not dating.”

“We’re _friends,_ Peter. Try and figure _that_ out.” Janine planted both hands on her hips and gave Peter a wicked look. The kind of look jilted ex-girlfriends gave him before they threatened to remove something of value to his masculinity. “Just make sure that you don’t jerk him around like you have a habit of doing with all the women that you date and dump, and I won’t hafta use that steak knife on your alter ego.”

“What the hell are you going on about, woman?” When Janine strutted out of the kitchen without saying another word, Peter felt like shoving his face into a pillow and screaming. Or suffocating himself. Whichever would put him out of his misery faster. Being threatened by Janine was nothing new. In fact, it was a daily occurrence that grated on Peter’s nerves. But having Janine reference Egon in the same sentence as Peter’s past romantic acquaintances was not something that had ever happened before. Either the little banshee was making less sense than usual these days or she suspected that Peter’s feelings for Egon had strayed out of the friendship territory. If it was the latter, perhaps she did deserve that raise she’d been coveting for the past year and a half.

_Perceptive little nosy harpy_, Peter thought to himself. _Hey, wait a minute!_ If that was the wavelength that Janine was on, then why hadn’t she warned Peter away from Egon? If Janine was such a good friend, then why would she tolerate someone with Peter’s track record cozying up to Egon? Unless... _Unless Egon would appreciate the extra attention._ That idea didn’t come as much of a shock to Peter, especially since he was sure of the subtle vibes Egon was giving off in his presence. But it didn’t make him feel too good about himself considering the circumstances. He couldn’t make a move on Egon now. Not only was the timing bad, but he worried that Egon might not be so receptive to any romantic advances while he was preoccupied with the threat that demon posed. It felt great to have Janine confirm - albeit in a roundabout way - that Egon was interested in a deeper connection, but not being able to do anything about it was going to drive Peter up the wall.

Shoving the bottle of Dramamine capsules into the pocket of his sweatpants, Peter exited the kitchen and swung down the fire pole to the second floor. If Egon was still feeling unwell, then Peter would keep him company in the bathroom for a while. Not that anyone had said anything, but Peter was pretty sure that he didn’t smell very approachable after forgoing a shower while he was staying with Egon in the hospital. Winston and Ray could do with some freshening up as well, but Peter’s first priority was his own hygiene. He couldn’t very well go about comforting Egon if he smelled like some athlete’s old gym bag. So he would just take a shower while Egon reined in his nausea. That was provided that Egon was not already on his knees hunched over in front of the toilet. Peter couldn’t remember ever having seen Egon in such a state. Occasionally the blond would come down with a cold, and once or twice with the flu, but never any stomach complaints. Because aside from Egon’s tendency to snack on sweets and get into just about every box of crackers and cookies - at the same time - he didn’t eat anything risky or that might disagree with his digestive system. Egon didn’t overdo it with the junk food either due to the fact that he just didn’t eat very much or very frequently.

Coming to a stop outside the bathroom door, Peter took a deep breath and concentrated hard on projecting an aura of friendship. He would reveal his feelings for Egon later, once things had calmed down and that demon disintegrated. But as he was about to knock, he heard a faint sound from inside that was not at all normal. It sounded like an aborted scream, followed by muffled sobbing.

Before Peter’s brain could register what he was doing, his fist was pounding on the door - hard - and he was shouting Egon’s name. “Egon! Are you okay in there?” He leaned up against the door and pressed his ear to it, hearing that heartbreaking sound again, which was interspersed with muted cries of pain. “EGON!” Peter tried the door handle but it was locked. The door itself was old and heavy. Alone, Peter would never be able to break it down. “WINSTON! RAY!” He hollered in the direction of the bedroom. “I NEED HELP!”

Harsh footsteps pounded out of the bedroom and up to Peter. “What the hell are you shoutin’ like that for, man?” Winston growled.

“The door. On two,” Peter commanded as he backed up a bit and took aim at the door handle. “One...”

“Oh shit,” Ray gasped when he heard the cries that were now escalating into stifled screams of pain. “It’s in there with him.”

“TWO!” Ray’s swift departure barely registered with Peter because he was already kicking the door with all his might. At his side, Winston kicked it even harder, the resounding thud echoing throughout the building and shaking the door frame. “AGAIN!” They both pulled back and kicked the door again, this time with a lot more power. The entire frame cracked and the doorknob caved in on an angle. “AGAIN!” Peter kicked the doorknob hard, feeling the impact jolt his shin and ankle.

The second the door flew inwards, Peter rushed inside... and came to a dead stop. He was immediately accosted by the horrific sight of Egon being restrained and abused by a hideous monster. It was perhaps somewhere between eight or nine feet tall, weighing at least three times as much as Egon judging by its muscular mass. A tough leathery skin covered most of its dark body, except for its face, which was nothing but thin strips of muscle stretched taut over a skeletal scowl. It had deep sockets where its eyes ought to have been, and one of those sockets was a whirling vortex of darkness. A red glow emanated from deep within those sunken pits, with the one on the left side appearing distorted and weaker. Perhaps that was the eye that Ray had stabbed with the rifle end of his thrower. Rows of spikes covered the monster’s back, protecting it should it be attacked from behind. But the most disturbing thing about it was the fifteen-inch long erection that was hanging from a well endowed sac.

Egon was prone on the floor, completely naked, the torn fragments of his clothes littering the bathroom floor like rags. Thin tendril-like ropes extended from beneath the creature’s claws, binding Egon’s wrists above his head and twisting into his mouth to silence him. More of the tendrils slithered through Egon’s hair, tugging ruthlessly on it, while a few more traced around the blond’s neck, debating over whether to squeeze the life out of him. The demon was kneeling between Egon’s legs, drawing arcane symbols from the base of Egon’s neck to his tailbone with one claw. The symbols flashed like highlighted hieroglyphs, illuminating Egon’s pale flesh with a magenta glow.

Having lived and slept in the same room with Egon for a number of years, Peter thought that he’d had a pretty good idea of what the blond might look like in the nude. Egon was very conservative and self-conscious, so he never showed very much skin, but his favored nightshirts tended to reveal his general shape quite a bit. Peter shouldn’t have been shocked to see just how slender Egon really was without his clothing, but in contrast to the hulking form of the demon, Egon looked even more fragile and vulnerable. In another life, Egon’s delicate bone structure might have led to a career in some form of classic dance, or perhaps modeling. Anything but Ghostbusting, which oftentimes required brute strength or the ability to endure extensive bruising. But even then, Egon had never been faced with such excruciating pain. Even from a distance, Peter could see that the tendrils wrapped around Egon’s wrists were cutting off his circulation, and the ones in his mouth were causing him to choke. What was worse was that the mystical characters being engraved into Egon’s flesh were going deep enough to draw blood. But if that affront to all that was natural in the world attempted to insert that _thing_ into Egon, it would undoubtedly kill him.

A split second after debating over the best way to tackle the demon, without it resulting in more suffering for Egon, Peter was flying at it in a rage. First, he grabbed the hand that was tattooing Egon like a piece of cattle, wrenching hard enough to snap one of the demon’s bony fingers. Then, still holding that leathery hand in his grasp, Peter lunged at the demon with a powerful uppercut. The attack was barely enough to stun the purplish monster, but it was enough to distract it. Peter automatically switched to attacking the tendrils that were assaulting Egon, throwing himself down on top of the blond when Winston came roaring into the room, wielding a baseball bat. As Peter clawed at the tendrils, trying to get them to release Egon’s mouth, he heard a loud crack an instant before he felt pieces of splintered wood rain down on the back of his head and shoulders. He shielded Egon with his body, hoping that Winston could keep the demon busy long enough for him to free the blond.

“It’s burning,” Egon cried hoarsely as soon as Peter had succeeded in breaking away the tendrils that had been forced into the blond’s mouth.

“What is?” Peter grunted as he yanked and clawed at the tendrils that were on the verge of crushing Egon’s wrists. Behind him, he heard the familiar thrum of a proton pack being powered up just as Winston’s bat struck again.

“My leg...,” Egon sobbed.

Risking a glance behind him, Peter saw that the demon was being pushed back by Ray’s proton beam. Even with the reversed polarity, Ray was not going to have it easy taking on the monster by himself. The beam might phase him for a couple of minutes tops, and then they would have a vengeful demon on their hands.

“Which leg?” Peter shifted off of Egon to inspect the blond’s legs. He immediately noticed the pool of purplish slime that was trailing from the inside of Egon’s right thigh down to his knee. It didn’t look like it was doing any damage to Egon’s skin, but what was it and where had it come from? A terrible thought suddenly entered Peter’s mind. Looking back, he saw the demon’s large phallus jutting outwards as the monster repelled Ray’s proton beam. It was leaking some sort of purplish ooze that looked identical to the substance that had come dangerously close to Egon’s buttocks. It then occurred to Peter that the demon had been on the verge of violating Egon when they had broken down the door. One second later and Egon would have been impaled on that savage appendage. “Fuck!” Reacting quickly, Peter pulled the sleeve of his sweatshirt down over his hand and used it to wipe the slime off of Egon. “It’s going to be okay, Egon. We’re not going to let it touch you again.” Even as the words left his mouth, he knew that he was making an empty promise for the demon had broken free of the proton beam and was coming after its intended sacrifice. There was nothing Peter could do but gather Egon in his arms, hunching over him and hoping that he would be able to endure whatever the repulsive creature dished out before Ray and Winston could regroup.

“Get your big head down or lose it, Dr. V!”

Peter flattened Egon back down on the floor, keeping him there as a proton beam was unleashed full throttle above his head. The uncontrolled beam zapped the wall, climbed up to the ceiling, and whipped down again to strike the demon in the chest.

“Janine, reverse the polarity!” Ray shouted.

“How the hell do I do that?”

“Lift up the small metallic cover on top of the thrower, flip the switch in the opposite direction, and hit the button directly below the warning label.”

Peter was too tense with fear to bother teasing Janine on her lousy aim. The only thing Peter could concentrate on was Egon’s pitiful sobbing. The blond was breathing rapidly and trembling something awful. His skin was also cold and clammy, and he was moaning in distress. He was going into shock and his symptoms were worsening at an alarming rate.

The air above Peter’s head heated up with another power surge at a different frequency, which he knew he couldn’t blame Janine for because the demon was snarling and reaching for Egon again.

{_You will not keep me from what is MINE!}_

“When I get my hands on you, I’m gonna take a blowtorch to what is _yours_, burn it off, and feed it back to you!” Peter shouted up at the demon with pure hatred. He’d barely finished with his threat when the demon was blasted backwards by a third proton beam. Now Ray, Janine, and Winston were armed and seemingly in control of the situation.

{_Impudent mortals! There is nothing you can do to prevent me from ravaging that virgin. He has been chosen and initiated as required by the ancient rites. You have interrupted me this time, but I will finish preparing him, before I pleasure myself with his frail body. I will have him - at my own leisure. Your unimpressive weapons will not stop me in the future, nor will I be deterred by the competition.}_

Having uttered his threat in its entirety, the demon spontaneously dispersed, leaving the three proton beams that had been locked onto it to scorch the far bathroom wall, shooting off pieces of tilework and shattering one of the small windows that had been left closed.

“Power down!” Ray instructed.

“Someone get my kit from Ecto’s glove compartment,” Peter pleaded when he was sure they were safe. Without asking what it was for, Winston took off in search of it while Ray rushed over to the bathtub. Turning the water on full blast, he adjusted the temperature, thrust his arm in to double check, and crouched down to help Peter lift Egon off of the ground.

“Your clothes are covered in that slime,” Ray grimly observed. “Get undressed and go in with Egon. We need to get these symbols off of him.”

“I’ll go in after him,” Peter protested. Showering naked with Egon was a really bad idea after everything the blond had been through. “You take him in.” Although he didn’t say why, he figured that Ray would understand that it was because the slightly heftier Ghostbuster was still fully clothed. If Peter had to strip down, Egon might consider him to be an entirely new threat.

“I can’t,” Ray replied quietly while giving Peter a fearful look.

It was only then that Peter realized Egon had pulled away from Ray. And the second that Winston came barreling back into the bathroom with Peter’s emergency kit, Egon pressed tighter into Peter’s arms, trembling even harder. The blond was shivering so violently that Peter could hear his teeth chattering. Knowing that Egon was revealing severe signs of trauma and was in danger of suffering a heart attack or organ failure, Peter quickly nodded to Winston. “Load a syringe with the diazepam and pass it to me.” He noticed Janine standing by the doorway looking visibly upset. She was fiddling with the thrower and politely keeping her gaze as far away from Egon as possible. Peter took the syringe from Winston, followed by an alcohol-soaked piece of gauze. He swabbed Egon’s upper arm, held the blond still, and jabbed him with the syringe. “Shhh. It’s okay. This’ll help calm you down,” he said soothingly as he emptied the contents of the syringe into Egon’s arm. Peter usually kept his kit stocked with any medication that he might need to treat their clients with should they react badly to a ghost sighting. But this was the first time that he’d had to use something from it on one of his friends.

“Pete, those symbols are starting to change colors,” Winston warned.

Again, Egon jerked away from Winston, whimpering with fear and senselessly begging to be left alone. “Can someone get his glasses?” Being able to see what was going on might lesson the terror and ease the panicked state Egon was in, although Peter doubted that it would help much. “Winston, that piece of shit can come back at any time. Can you get those sensors up and running in the bedroom area ASAP? Janine, cover him. Ray, you stay here with us just in case it comes back.”

“Look, Peter, this is as uncomfortable for me as it is for you, but you need to get Egon cleaned off - quick,” Ray insisted. “Those symbols look like a form of ritual marking. They might be forming a link between Egon and that demon. If that’s the case, they need to be removed without any further delay.”

_Yeah, as uncomfortable for you as it is for me,_ Peter thought to himself_. I seriously doubt that._ He gently pushed Egon down onto the floor, having him sit with his back against the bathtub, and began to shirk off his clothing. “Shit!” Peter hissed when some of the slime on his sleeve brushed up against his wrist. It burned alright. Like accidentally touching the side of a lit barbecue. He kicked off his pants next, but left his boxers on, crouching down to lift Egon up again. As he did so, he got a good look at Egon’s face. There was a red welt on Egon’s right cheek, indicating that he’d been struck with something hard, and the physicist’s blue eyes were unfocused with pain and a fear so great it made the whole Boogieman ordeal seem like a bad dream. “Egon, do you trust me?” Peter gently stroked his hand over Egon’s tear streaked face, trying to elicit eye contact. He didn’t get it, but Egon did slowly nod. “Okay, that’s good. Because there are some glowing symbols on your back... At first they were reddish-pink, but now they’re turning purple. I need to get them off you. Do you understand?” This time, the nod came a lot slower as an incomplete gesture. Peter doubted that Egon was processing anything that was going on anymore. The blond was shutting down in the attempt to block out all the offensive stimuli.

Left with no choice, Peter wrapped both arms around Egon and bodily lifted him into the bathtub and under the spray of the shower.

“_Gyaahhh_!” Egon screamed in anguish as soon as the water touched his back. He instinctively retreated to the other end of the bathtub, collapsing into Peter’s arms when his strength failed him.

Gritting his teeth and feeling like he was betraying Egon’s trust, Peter pushed the blond back under the shower head. The screams continued - desperate, terrified sounds that Peter never would have thought Egon capable of making. Holding Egon steady with one arm around his slim waist, Peter grabbed for the bar of soap. The symbols were not being washed away by the heavy onslaught of water, which meant that Peter was going to have to force Egon to endure more pain. Peter would much rather have jumped in front of a moving car or set his proton pack to auto destruct than have to hurt the one person whom he loved more than anyone or anything else in existence.

“Just hold still and it’ll be over quickly,” Peter said as he ran the soap down the length of Egon’s back. The screaming got worse from there, and the accumulating water at the bottom of the bath became pink. “Ray, he’s bleeding,” Peter called out in a panic.

“You’re doing good, Peter,” Ray said in a coaxing tone that he seemed to have stolen from Peter. The shower curtains were open so Ray could see what was going on, but Peter couldn’t afford to look over at him because he had his hands full with Egon. “The symbols are fading. Go over them one more time and then make sure that nothing is lingering on either you or Egon.”

Before Peter could do anything, Egon fainted in his arms. Now boiling over with a fury that he couldn’t redirect, Peter supported Egon and quickly washed him off. He had fantasized about seeing Egon naked more times than he could possibly count, and embracing Egon intimately had been part of his wishful thinking, but this was not how he wanted it to happen. He didn’t want to see Egon weak, defenceless and injured. And he sure as hell didn’t want to be clinically bathing Egon instead of touching him with love and affection. Knowing that Ray was watching everything also made it a hundred times worse. It also made washing himself off feel like a perverse form of exhibitionism, which Peter was definitely not a fan of.

“Jesus Christ almighty!” Winston swore as he shoved Ray aside to get a good look at what was going on. “What the hell’re you doing to make him scream like that?!”

“It had to be done,” Ray said, his expression looking like he’d just swallowed something poisonous.

“Yeah, and lucky me, I got to be the one to do it to him,” Peter retorted sarcastically. “Get me a fucking towel and the first aid kit.” He took the towel offered by Winston, wrapping Egon in it, and then lifted the unconscious blond up and into his arms. Carrying him towards the bedroom, he barked off more orders. “Get another towel for his hair and find his glasses. Where’s Janine?”

“She’s crying in the kitchen,” Winston replied gruffly.

“Don’t leave her alone in there. From now on, nobody goes anywhere alone. Not until we catch this fucking demon.” Peter lay Egon down on his bed, on his stomach, and removed the towel. It was already stained with fresh blood. “You can help me treat him while he’s out,” he said to Winston. “Are the sensors up and running?”

“They’re operational but I need Ray to connect them to the main unit.”

“I’m on it.”

Peter dried Egon’s hair and carefully patted the rest of his body dry while Winston applied an antiseptic to the markings one by one. They looked to be incredibly sore, never mind the paranormal factor involved. When Winston reached Egon’s waist, Peter retrieved the tube of antiseptic from him. “I’ll do the rest. Go and see to Janine.” In truth, he didn’t want anyone touching Egon so casually, not even Winston. So Peter expertly rubbed the antiseptic over the markings that tapered down past the small of Egon’s back and ended just above his tailbone. Once he was done with that, he covered the wounds with bandages, before finally helping Egon into his nightshirt.

“What do you think it meant by ‘the competition’?” Ray switched on the sensor array and breathed a sigh of relief. “Egon’s sensors are operational.”

“I have no idea.” Peter took the towel that he’d used on Egon’s hair and used it to hastily dry himself off. Next, he changed into his pajamas and pulled the blankets down on Egon’s bed.

“It was looking right at you when it said that, Peter.”

“What do _you_ think it meant, Ray?” Peter asked testily. He climbed into the bed with Egon, pulled the blankets up around him, and then just protectively embraced him. He was thoroughly exhausted and stressed out beyond belief, but he was not going to leave Egon alone. Not even for a second.

“I think that you’re acting far too defensive,” Ray said quietly as he retrieved his thrower and sat on the opposite bed to observe them. “I get it now, Peter. Why you think you have more of a right to Egon than anyone else.” Before Peter could deny it, Ray pushed on. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re right.”


	7. Chapter 7

Egon awoke to the unfamiliar sensation of being ensnared in the warmth of an embrace. At least that’s what he assumed it was because there didn’t seem to be any intention of harming him. From what he could discern, he was curled up in the arms of another man. Two strong arms were wrapped around him - one around his shoulders and the other loosely coiled around his waist - and the chest he was pressed up against was solid and well defined. There was a heavy hand resting atop his head, fingers woven into his hair, and another hand was possessively holding him by the hip. Despite the gentleness of the embrace, the foreign physical contact sent Egon’s mind and emotions into overload. He had no idea where he was, who he was with, or what had been done to him.

Why was he locked in the arms of another man? And why was his entire body burning and throbbing with pain? His back... He had never been subjected to such excruciating agony in his life. The pain was so intense that it was as if he could feel every nerve ending being pricked over and over again with something liquid hot and sharp. And that distressing sensation was not limited to the one location. It was leisurely running up and down his back, like an invasive parasite, burrowing into one spot along his spine, only to exhaust whatever it was feeding on, before moving onto another. Even though he was lying on his side, and the arm around him was not brushing against any of his injuries, it still hurt immensely. His legs were also quite sore and the right side of his face stung. And getting his hands to open and close caused more debilitating pain in his wrists.

Why was it so difficult to concentrate? Egon was becoming more and more distressed over the alien feeling of being overwhelmed by his own emotions - the emotions that he had so carefully trained his mind to deny himself of. They were like old worn-out keepsakes that he’d buried deep down, where they could no longer affect him. But now that they had been unearthed, try as he might, Egon could not put them back where they belonged. Some he could identify, while others he was at a loss to name or describe. The fear was the worst - his old nemesis returned to emotionally cripple him once more. But the confusion was not far behind. And then there was something else. Something that caused his cheeks to darken and his stomach to churn with anxiety.

Suddenly, everything came rushing back to him at once - the bathroom, his clothes being torn from him, and then that massive creature forcing him to the floor.

Too afraid to open his eyes lest he find himself in bed with an unspeakable horror, Egon tried to will himself to call for help. But his voice wouldn’t work, and neither would his limbs. He was so petrified that even his throat had ceased to function. Now unable to swallow or control his breathing, Egon’s mind and body descended into a state of utter panic.

“Egon?”

On some level the voice was recognizable, but Egon lacked the means with which to process it. There were words being spoken to him, and the hand on his head was sliding down to touch the side of his face, but nothing made any sense to him. The roaring in his head took over, drowning out all external stimuli, and the heat in Egon’s face and body increased incrementally.

At some point, Egon felt a light prick in his arm, but it was so mild compared to the pain he had already endured that he paid no attention to it.

“You’re alright now. Shhh. That’s it. Lie back down.”

The hand was stroking Egon’s hair, and the voice was speaking to him as if he were a frightened animal. Never in his life had anyone touched Egon with such tenderness or spoken to him with such kindness. And that confused him even more. How could he have been tortured so cruelly one minute only to be treated with such care and compassion the next?

“Nothing’s gonna hurt you ever again, Egon. Not while I’m around.”

“_Peter_?” Egon rasped hoarsely. His throat was raw and his vocal chords possibly damaged from all the screaming he’d been doing before he lost consciousness. He was also stunned by the fact that he was lying in bed with Peter, and mortified to discover that he was now weeping uncontrollably.

“It’s me and nobody else, Egon,” Peter replied reassuringly. “Shhh. There’s nothing to be afraid of... not anymore.” He was keeping his voice low, as if he were afraid of waking the others, or of being overheard. In the background, Ray could be heard snoring contently, and Winston was mumbling incoherently into his pillow. Fainter still was the sound of Peter’s bedside clock marking each passing second. Those were the only sounds in the bedroom, aside from the thrum of power being generated by the portable unit that was monitoring the sensors that Egon had designed. “Give me a sec... Your glasses are on the nightstand.”

But the instant Peter shifted away, Egon reacted instinctively. “No,” he pleaded, clutching at Peter’s pajama top in desperation. If Peter moved away... If Egon lost that sense of comfort and security...

“I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” Peter said softly to him. He settled back down under the blankets and began to caress Egon’s face. “Egon, you’re burning up,” he remarked with a good measure of concern. “I’ve already checked you for a fever, so it must be your body reacting to the pain. Can you tell me where it hurts?”

“Everywhere,” Egon complained, almost immediately regretting that he had revealed just how weak and helpless he was. It wasn’t like him to openly admit when he was feeling pain or anything else for that matter. And yet, here he was, crying in Peter’s arms and making an absolute fool of himself. He was bound to lose his friend’s respect after this shameful display. Peter expected him to be strong and immovable, and here Egon was acting like he was broken and inconsolable.

For a moment, Peter said nothing. He continued to touch Egon in a calming manner, but there was now a stiffness to his actions. “When you say ‘_everywhere_’, what exactly do you mean?”

Now fearing that he had inadvertently angered or annoyed Peter, Egon hastened to downplay his discomfort. “I misspoke... It’s becoming more tolerable. The pain should subside on its own.”

“Hold on a minute. You’re not actually trying to make _me_ feel better by bullshitting about how much pain you’re in, are you?” Peter asked in shock.

There was movement, an arm reaching across Egon, and then Peter’s handsome features sharpened into focus as Egon’s glasses were righted on his face. Once again, that indescribable emotion assaulted Egon, causing his skin to flush with heat and his gaze to drop from his best friend.

“Egon.” This time, the way Peter spoke Egon’s name was charged with emotion. “Look at me.” When Egon resisted, Peter hooked two fingers under his chin and compelled him to obey. “None of this is your fault. Considering the abuse you’ve been put there, it’s only natural for you to cry. There is nothing to feel ashamed about.”

Was that what Egon was feeling? Shame? Whatever it was, it also made him feel revulsion. The thought of what had been done to him, of what had nearly been done to him... And then having been witnessed in that awful state - stripped of his clothes, his dignity, and his pride.

“Egon,” Peter said with that same controlled tone that was anything but. “I have to ask you something that will probably upset you, but I need you to answer truthfully. Can you do that for me?”

Egon remembered how Peter had protected him, shielding him from that monster, and then drastically decreased his suffering by washing away whatever the demon had been inscribing down his back. Egon would do whatever Peter asked him to, regardless of what it was. Glancing once into Peter’s dark green eyes, Egon nodded, before looking away again. The lighting was poor and the endless tears blurring Egon’s vision made holding eye contact pointless anyway.

“Did that piece of shit touch you anywhere it shouldn’t have?”

So that was why Peter was practically radiating with fury. He wasn’t angry or disappointed with Egon after all. That much was a relief, but the question itself, as well as the answer to it, did indeed upset Egon a great deal.

“Where?” Peter demanded to know.

Egon looked up in disbelief because he had yet to reply.

“We’ve known each other for a long time, Egon. I can usually read you like a book. What you don’t say holds as much meaning as what you do.” When Egon miserably whimpered and choked on more tears, Peter did something completely unexpected and far out of the realm of friendship - he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Egon’s forehead in a brief kiss. “I am on your side no matter what. Whatever you need, I’m here for you. But I need you to be honest with me. The first time we encountered that demon, did it touch you?”

It was useless to block out the memory of how the monster had groped him after Peter’s insistent questioning stirred up the feelings associated with it again. The only thing Egon could do was nod, not able to put what had been done to him into words.

“_Motherfucker_!” The expletive that escaped Peter was vile and full of hatred. Although Peter was known for his ability to shout and curse, he usually refrained from exercising his foul vocabulary in front of Egon. “And the second time?”

“Was worse,” Egon admitted with the threat of shame still hanging over his head.

For a few seconds, the only thing Peter did was clench his teeth, his facial muscles tightening as he fought to control his temper. That was something that Peter had never quite gotten the hang of, but now he seemed to be on the verge of becoming homicidal. “Did it insert anything inside of you... it’s fingers or... anything else?” Peter ground out through his teeth.

Thankfully, that was one question that Egon could answer in the negative. Had Peter broken down the door a second or two later, the outcome may have been much worse. “You intervened before it could do so.” Egon did not want to entertain the thought of what might have happened had Peter failed to rescue him when he did.

“Don’t sound so grateful to me,” Peter said bitterly. “I should have stopped it before it happened at all.”

Again, Egon felt the confusion inside of him grow greater. Why would Peter blame himself for what had happened? It wasn’t like he had summoned the demon. If anyone was to blame, it was Egon himself for not being forthright from the beginning. “I shouldn’t have—.”

“_Don’t_,” Peter cut Egon off, having anticipated the apology before Egon could make it. “None of this is your fault, Egon. You’re the victim in all this. Nothing you did or didn’t do caused this to happen. But I could have prevented it.” Before Egon could inquire as to how Peter could have possibly made a difference, Peter continued on in a different tone. He spoke gentler again as he used the sleeve of his pajama top to dry Egon’s tears. “Something changed between us a while ago - something that I was too stupid and blind to notice. It took nearly losing you to realize all the time I had wasted. Had I made a move on you sooner, I wouldn’t have let you out of my sight. I never would have allowed the person I love to be violently attacked and nearly raped.”

To that, there was absolutely nothing that Egon could say. He could only lie there in a sort of trance, now acutely aware of how Peter was holding him and caressing him. Their friendship was still intact, somewhere, but it was no longer the driving factor in Peter’s protectiveness over him. It was too good to be true. It couldn’t be true. What could a man as good looking and popular as Peter Venkman possibly want with someone like Egon?

“You don’t see it, do you?” Peter declared in amazement. “You seriously don’t know how beautiful you are. The only reason why I’ve left you alone for this long is because I didn’t want to hurt you, Egon, not because I wasn’t interested in you.” And then Peter was removing Egon’s fingers from his pajama top, one at a time. He entwined their fingers together and smiled sadly at him. “You’re too sweet and innocent for me, but I want you all the same.”

Egon stared at their linked fingers in wonder, finally understanding why couples were always happily holding hands. It felt nice, and it symbolized a relationship that went much deeper than anything Egon had ever experienced. On top of that, Peter’s hand was strong and cool, providing Egon with the courage to accept what was being offered to him. Peter was not acting cocky and flippant. He was speaking with the utmost sincerity while gazing at Egon with fondness and longing. No one had ever looked at Egon like that before, and to think that Peter actually found him attractive... The tears it brought to Egon’s eyes were now ones of incredible joy and reciprocated love, not of fear or pain.

When Egon didn’t withdraw his hand, Peter took that as a sign to continue. “We’re going to take this nice and slow, okay? If you ever feel uncomfortable, you’re to tell me right away. Got it?”

“I will,” Egon quickly assented, not wanting Peter to release his hand or move away.

“The injection I gave you is gonna last for another couple of hours, but after that, I want you to try and deal with your emotions. I know that you’d prefer not to have the more uncomfortable ones, but they’re a part of being human. I’ll help you as much as I can, but you have to stop blocking everything out. It’s only gonna hit you harder when you can’t suppress them anymore.”

Egon automatically shook his head in protest. “I don’t want to feel this shame anymore, Peter. And I most certainly resent the idea of being forced to remember that monster rubbing its... _reproductive organs_ against my body!”

“_Nobody_ is gonna force you to remember any of that,” Peter said angrily, his hand reaching out to cup the side of Egon’s face. “But nothing can make you forget it either,” he said as his thumb began to stroke Egon’s cheek. “I can’t have you drugged up and docile. It’s not healthy and you’ll hate what it does to your outstanding brain functions. You’ve probably already noticed that it’s making it hard for you to think and it’s causing some confusion.”

_~Confusion is the least of your worries, my sacrificial lamb.~_

Egon gasped and whipped his head up, searching beyond the blankets and the bed for the source of that dreadful voice. The bedroom was cloaked in darkness, save for the bedside lamp that Peter had turned on to illuminate Egon’s bed. That monster could be hiding anywhere.

“Egon? What is it?”

_~Go ahead and tell him his best efforts were in vain. You have been marked, Egon Spengler. You are my property to do with as I wish. And I wish to plunder you with great brutality.~_

“Get out of my head!” Egon cried, frantically jerking away from Peter to dig his fingers into his temples.

_~Your sensors will not keep me out. And your mortal knight will not be able to protect you. You will be the final sacrifice in my collection - the one I extract the most pain and suffering from.~_

“Peter,” Egon pleaded in severe mental and physical anguish.

“All it can do is threaten you,” Peter said loudly, forcing himself to be heard over the voice in Egon’s head. “If it really wanted to come after you again, it would do so now. Something stopped it the first time, and I have a pretty good suspicion of what that was.”

_~I will destroy that insolent creature first.~_ The demon roared inside Egon’s head. _~Force you to watch me tear him limb from limb.~_

The voice abruptly stopped the instant Egon felt a moist pressure against his lips. His eyes opened wide to see that Peter had surged forward to kiss him. At first, Egon froze, not knowing how to react or what to do. Peter covered Egon’s mouth with his own, lightly nipping at Egon’s lips, before his tongue slid out to stroke along Egon’s bottom lip. At the same time, he lightly pulled Egon back down to the bed and into his arms.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the moment I first laid eyes on you,” Peter murmured, the fingers of one hand combing through Egon’s hair, pulling it free of its usual hairstyle. On any other occasion, having Peter ruffle his hair would’ve irritated Egon. But this was unlike the way that Peter usually teased him. Peter was not trying to mess up his hair, but rather to spread it out so that it flowed sensuously down past his shoulders. “You were cute and shy back then, but you’re absolutely gorgeous now. I’m not gonna let anything hurt you, Egon. Just concentrate on what I’m doing and ignore whatever it’s saying to you.”

_~A simple kiss is insufficient—~_

Egon shuddered when Peter licked between his lips and then tugged playfully on them with his teeth. This was not what he imagined a kiss would be like. It was not at all simple and limited in sensation like he had imagined. His lips were tingling wherever Peter drew his tongue, and he was filled with the overwhelming need to give himself to the kiss. He wanted it. He had always wanted to be kissed by Peter. Despite what the demon had done to him, he still longed to feel Peter’s hands on his body. He wanted to know what it felt like to be kissed by the man he loved so purely.

“You’ve always been mine,” Peter whispered by Egon’s ear, partially for the demon’s benefit, but solely because he meant it. “You’ve been saving yourself for me all these years, haven’t you?” This Peter breathed with awe, devoid of any arrogance or his usual egotistical nature.

“Y-yes,” Egon replied truthfully, a soft moan escaping him when Peter kissed him again.

“Then no one but me will have you,” Peter swore.

Egon whimpered in surprise when Peter’s tongue pushed past his lips to venture into his mouth. It caught him off guard but it felt wonderful to have Peter kissing him so enthusiastically. Peter’s lips were firm and demanding, and his tongue knew how to expertly coax Egon into kissing him back. At first, it was a bit awkward figuring out what Peter wanted him to do, but Egon discovered that rubbing his tongue along Peter’s was most pleasurable. He had always worried that his own nervousness would ruin his first kiss, but that was not the case. Peter was not pulling away in disgust but kissing Egon harder, like he wanted to devour him. Egon closed his eyes and allowed Peter to intensify the kiss. It was almost too much for Egon. He clenched Peter’s pajama top in his fists and dug his heels into the mattress when the pleasant sensations began to transition into something that Egon was not prepared for.

At that point, Peter slowly ended the kiss and smiled impishly at Egon. “Was that your first kiss?”

“Was it that obvious?” Egon asked with a twinge of disappointment.

But instead of making fun of him, Peter kissed him again. “You were wonderful.” Then, he gave Egon a searching look. “Is it gone?”

“I can’t hear it anymore...” That didn’t necessarily mean it was gone. Temporarily evicted, but still a very real threat.

“That’s good enough for now.” Then, Peter turned his head towards the sound of snoring. “Ray! Wake up!”

“Huh? Wha-?!” Ray mumbled sleepily.

“That psychic dampener that you and Egon were working on - I need you to finish it.”

Egon gazed at Peter in surprise. He hadn’t been aware that Peter even knew what a psychic dampener was, much less that he and Ray were building their own unique model.

“Peter, I’ve had less than four hours of sleep,” Ray grumbled back at him.

“Egon is now being telepathically harassed by that son of a bitch. He needs that psychic dampener as soon as possible.”

“I’m on it,” Ray replied in a more alert tone. “Winston!”

“Yeah, I heard...” Winston responded with a tired yawn. “How’s Egon doing?”

“He’s okay, for now.”

Egon was relieved that Peter was speaking for him because he wasn’t sure what to say to Ray or Winston. He wasn’t even sure if he could face them knowing that they had seen him reduced to a sobbing mess before the demon.

“As soon as we get that psychic-whatnot built, we’re going after this demon,” Winston said angrily. “Nobody messes with one of our own and gets away with it.”

“Damn straight,” Ray chimed in.

Egon listened to them leave the room, content to remain inside the blankets in Peter’s embrace, where it was warm and safe.


	8. Chapter 8

For the longest time, Peter had fantasized about running his fingers through Egon’s soft blond hair and nuzzling the blond’s smooth, creamy skin to inhale the scent of him. Now that he was in a position to do both, he found that his imagination was dreadfully flawed. Ruffling Egon’s hair from time to time had not given Peter any true indication of how voluminous and soft it actually was. Even without hairspray, Egon’s long front bangs seemed to curl in on themselves of their own accord, although they now flopped down into Egon’s eyes and needed to be pushed back every now and then to get them out of the way. For some bizarre reason, which was mainly the fault of Egon’s eccentric collecting habits, Peter had assumed that the blond might smell like mushroom soup. But now, with his face pressed snugly against the crook of Egon’s neck, Peter discovered that his best friend smelled sweet. There was a light scent about Egon that he couldn’t have picked up from that generic bar of soap that Peter had rubbed him down with. Maybe it was the result of Egon’s fastidious hygiene, or perhaps it was because the blond indulged his sweet tooth every afternoon with sinfully rich chocolate bars, cream puffs or hot chocolate milk with cookies.

In front of the others, Peter was always nagging at Egon - and Ray - to cut back on the sugary treats. Then, when no one else was around, Peter left special _presents_ where he was sure Egon would find them. One day it might be a block of high quality chocolate from one of the specialty stores in the neighborhood. Another day it could be a Rice Krispies square or a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies that Peter had picked up from the bakery near the mayor’s office. He was forever being called down there to kiss the mayor’s ass or smooth things over after the Ghostbusters caused unforgivable, unsightly damage to their beloved city. Peter was much better with the ass-kissing than figuring out how to replace three blocks of sidewalk or two kilometres of guardrail. And never mind the time that Egon had accidentally blasted off one of the horns from the Charging Bull on Wall Street with his proton beam. Peter had paid for that incident with the ass-kissing, free party entertainment for the mayor’s wife, as well as pimped Ray out to one of the mayor’s handsy nieces. But seeing Egon smile at the sight of a familiar paper bag stuffed with cookies, which had been left on his workbench, made it all worth it.

Peter knew that he would not be exaggerating if he said that Egon had an angelic smile. Due to Egon’s introverted personality, he didn’t solicit gifts or try to attract any sort of attention to himself. So when he was given something, he reacted with innocent delight. Oh, he tried to cover it up and stifle the intensity of his reaction, but those sky blue eyes of his could conceal nothing. They lit up whenever Peter entered the room, as if that action alone was the greatest present ever. In the beginning, Peter had chalked it up to hero worship and gone out of his way to never bring it up, lest he embarrass his best friend. But, over the years, those feelings had evolved into something else. Something that Peter had only recently acknowledged and admitted to reciprocating just as strongly.

“So, whenever you make me your mom’s soup, you’re not really trying to kill me,” Peter murmured near Egon’s ear. The blond was tense and breathing unevenly, his fingers digging into Peter’s forearms. It was to be expected after Peter had just finished redressing Egon’s wounds. The markings down Egon’s spine looked ugly and vicious and the blood was still fresh in places. Egon would need to be really careful with how he moved for the next few days to avoid reopening any of them. With any luck, and a lot of care, the markings would heal without leaving scars. However, Peter had detected something odd about the symbols while treating the injuries. He had felt an unmistakable tingling sensation in his fingertips when brushing over two of the more elaborate symbols located near Egon’s tailbone. It reminded him of the time he had stuck his damp fingers into an open electrical socket on a dare as a child. Luckily that experience had only zapped some common sense into him. Touching Egon’s branding had felt entirely different. It had felt _good_. That scared Peter a hell of a lot - to think that he might derive some pleasure from Egon’s pain and suffering, even though it had not been intentional.

“Why would you think that?” Egon asked weakly, not in any condition to match Peter’s wit and humor at the moment. “My mother taught me that recipe.”

Of course she had. Egon’s mother fawned over him like a protective mother bear, and Egon in turn dutifully loved and respected his mother. He would not share such an important family recipe with just anyone. No, that foul smelling, unappetizing concoction was only bestowed upon poor Peter whenever he happened to come down with a cold. If he didn’t make a full recovery every time he forcefully poured it down his throat, he might have accused Egon - or Mrs. Spengler by default - of trying to poison him.

“I’m just trying to figure out how I could’ve missed all these signs.” The signs of Egon’s shy puppy love that had increased in frequency over time, despite Peter’s ignorant and indifferent reaction to them. Egon had done just about everything possible in order to attract Peter’s attention, except that those actions made sense to nobody except the one responsible for them. How was Peter to have known that Egon spent weeks on some sort of Ecto-Aroma Eliminator just to relieve Peter of the lingering odor of ectoplasm? Egon was also forever covering for Peter’s laziness, picking up the slack for him when nobody else would. The blond had even excused the senior Venkman’s meddling in the supernatural countless times when Peter himself had been on the verge of cutting his dad off for his shenanigans. Egon was so patient and caring in everything he did, but he went about it in such a way that was easy to overlook and difficult to interpret.

“_Peter_!”

Peter kissed Egon’s neck and then his cheek, stroking one of the blond’s finely shaped eyebrows with his thumb as he did so. “Just concentrate on me and block that bastard out,” he instructed. Peter would definitely have no problem with kissing Egon again to ward off that demon, but he worried about what Ray and Winston would think if they walked in on them. Ray would probably tell him that his timing was all wrong while Winston would give him a proper dressing down about how inappropriate his actions were. As close as Peter was to the other two Ghostbusters, he was not in the mood to be accused of taking advantage of Egon. He would have also preferred to be kissing Egon because the romantic atmosphere called for it, not because he had to insert a mental barricade between the blond and that savage monster. “That psychic dampener ought to be finished soon. Can you hold on for another few minutes?”

The instant that Egon looked up, Peter realized that they had just run out of time. Egon’s eyes were glowing violet and he looked feverish.

“RAY! WINSTON! Get that device in here, _NOW_!” Peter hollered.

No sooner had Ray and Winston come rushing back into the bedroom than the sensors erupted into a cacophony of deafening wails. And that’s all they were, really - sensors. Egon hadn’t had the time to design a forcefield to encompass the entire building, if such a thing were possible. That meant the demon had already breached one of the entry points and was going to either try to assault Egon again or snatch him away.

Peter pushed Egon back down onto the mattress and reached over the side of the bed to retrieve the proton pack that had been left there. Shouldering it on, he got as close as possible to Egon, preparing to defend him with everything he had.

On the opposite side of the room, Winston was already throwing on his proton pack and powering it up. Ray ignored the third proton pack lying by the wall, instead wildly dashing up to Peter and Egon. “Sorry,” he huffed as he took hold of Egon’s glasses, which were still on the blond’s face, attaching two metallic pieces the size of USB drives to both arms. Egon flinched and pulled away from him, nearly losing his glasses in the process, but Ray pushed them back in place and then flicked on the psychic dampener.

This time, the demon gave them no verbal warning of its presence. There were no taunts or threats, only the horrifying image of a purplish nightmare solidifying by the window. It appeared more massive than before, perhaps due to the raging fury that it was projecting. The hulking mass of it completely blocked out the light from the window, its searing red eyes raking the room over with hatred. Then, a split second later, it was firing those tendrils from beneath its black fingernails. They penetrated or destroyed whatever they came into contact with, causing a bedside lamp to explode near Winston, piercing straight through Ray’s mattress, and even stabbing Peter in the thigh.

“_FUCK_!” Peter howled in pain. First his face and now his leg. He thought that he’d had the demon figured out. When he’d shielded Egon with his body in the bathroom, Peter had successfully stopped the demon from continuing its assault on the blond. And when Peter had kissed Egon, he had disrupted whatever telepathic connection the demon had been trying to establish. Peter had been so sure that he was all that was needed to keep Egon safe. He’d gotten cocky - again - and the universe had punished him for it. “Egon, stay behind me!”

Winston fired at the monster with his proton beam, giving Peter the time he needed to yank the pointed tip of the tendril out of his leg and join in on the assault. Ray was not far behind, combining their force to three beams on full power with reversed polarity. The demon faltered for a second under the crushing weight of the beams, but then thrust forward with a vengeance. It didn’t seem to be coordinating its attacks, just shooting those tendrils randomly while making its way towards Egon. There was a desperation to its progression, as if it didn’t have a moment to lose. It needed Egon _immediately_ and at any cost.

Sensing that Egon was fidgeting behind him, Peter glanced back to check on the blond only to find himself confronted with those glowing violet eyes again. “Why the hell isn’t the psychic dampener working?!” Peter shouted at Ray.

“It is working,” Egon stated in a tone that contained nothing but terror. “Peter, the beams appear to have minimal effect on the entity. Set your proton pack to automatically self destruct,” he pleaded. “Perhaps we can neutralize the creature long enough for us to evacuate the building—.”

“Are you nuts?!” Peter blurted out. Then, realizing just how close the demon was and how Egon’s abnormally violet eyes were glistening with tears, he stamped out his outrage. He couldn’t expect Egon to react rationally, not after what had been done to him. The blond would most likely choose to detonate the proton pack himself if it would keep him out of the monster’s clutches. But they couldn’t blow up a proton pack in the middle of a residential neighborhood. Aside from the fact that it would kill a lot of innocent people, it would also obliterate the containment unit. Such an event would be catastrophic. And there was no way that any of them would make it out of the blast zone in time to avoid an imminent death. “I’m _not_ gonna let it touch you,” Peter snarled angrily. He had promised to keep Egon safe and that was what he was going to do. Even if it cost him his own life.

“It’s _appalling_, Peter,” Egon cried in dismay. “How can a creature so grotesque...?!” He didn’t finish his alarming question, burying his face into his hands instead.

It was then that Peter remembered how he had found Egon. The blond had been practically blind during the attack in the bathroom. This was the first time that Egon had actually seen the manner of being that had hurt him so badly.

Wrapping an around Egon, Peter held him close and continued to blast the demon, knowing that his actions were futile. If Ray and Winston couldn’t push the demon back, Peter would sacrifice his own life to ensure that Egon remained unmolested. He would do as much bodily damage as possible before the monster killed him. That would give Ray and Winston ample time to get Egon the hell out of the building. But the thought of not being able to show Egon just how much he loved him devastated Peter. The life and future that he had always wanted to create with his dearest friend was about to be taken away from him. And, if he were to die, that would be one more added cruelty for Egon to bear. The blond would never love another, of that Peter was certain. Peter’s sacrifice could end up a wasted gesture if Egon died soon after of a broken heart.

“Peter, get Egon the fuck outta there!” Winston shouted.

“I can’t.” Peter’s throat burned with the fear and sorrow of what was about to happen. Egon could barely stand, much less walk. For Peter to free up his arms to carry the blond, he would need to power down his proton beam. Then the demon would be upon them, shredding Peter to pieces before doing whatever it pleased to a helpless Egon.

Now only a few feet away, the demon plodded forward. Its clawed toes scratched and dug into the flooring, finding purchase before that hard mass of muscles pushed back against the proton beams. Inching even closer, its mere presence caused the ambient temperature to plummet and the surrounding air to reek with a combination of ozone and over-baked asphalt. There was no need for the PKE meter when the stench of the demon easily classified it as either a level 7 or 8. During their first encounter, Peter hadn’t been able to smell anything other than decomposing bodies and blood. And he had been too upset over the abuse Egon had been subjected to in the bathroom to take notice of any foul odors at the time. But there was no avoiding the wretched smell now. Even Egon was coughing in the effort to clear his lungs of the offending fumes.

_{You will desist your treachery at once!_} The demon bellowed at Egon as it swatted off Ray and Winston’s beams and lunged forward to grab the end of Peter’s thrower, snapping it off with a crunching sound.

Peter expected to be killed instantly after that, but the demon surprised him by raising its right fist above Egon’s head. It intended to strike Egon! Without thinking, Peter seized the monster’s wrist with one hand, holding that fist at bay, before he surged upwards to punch that vile abomination between the eyes. The result of that punch stunned him. A mere mortal such as himself shouldn’t have been able to phase something so massive and powerful, and yet, the blow sent the beast crashing to its knees. When Peter glanced at his knuckles to see if they were still intact, he took a sharp intake of breath. His entire fist was glowing violet!

“Peter, it’s coming back!” Egon jerked away from the demon when it lunged at him, falling onto his back on the mattress and crying out in pain. Simultaneously, both Winston and Ray’s beams cut out in order to avoid catching Egon in the crossfire.

But before the demon could get its claws on Egon, Peter kicked it in the head and then whipped it in the face with what was left of his thrower. Both the heel of his foot and the thrower connected with the demon’s stony flesh with trailing streaks of luminescent violet. Directly before his heel made contact with the demon’s cheekbone, Peter felt something similar to an electrical current winding down his leg and into his foot. That was when he realized what was going on and why the monster was now intent on beating Egon into submission.

Peter had interrupted whatever ceremony the demon had been performing on Egon back in the bathroom. Those arcane symbols were supposed to have formed a link between the demon and its prey, but they had inadvertently bonded Egon with Peter instead. The violet glow to Egon’s eyes had nothing to do with the demon and everything to do with what the monster was after. Its sick fascination with defiling Egon went a lot deeper than just wanting to add another virgin to its trophy list. There was something inside of Egon - an untapped power that none of the Ghostbusters’ equipment had ever detected before - that the demon lusted after. Whatever it was, the demon had awakened it only to have Peter claim access to it.

_{I will tear you to pieces, Egon Spengler!}_ Having recovered from Peter’s attack, the demon ignored him and swung its claws down to grasp Egon by a fistful of his hair.

Egon screamed and raised his arms protectively in front of his face, not capable of defending himself or fighting back. So Peter did that for him. He brought the broken, jagged end of the thrower down on the demon’s wrist, ripping through its flesh and causing it to release the blond. Then Winston and Ray were upon it, striking it with everything they had.Winston smashed a lamp over its head while Ray took to hacking at it with a letter opener. That was the most they could do without being able to use their proton packs.

“Get it away from Egon!” Peter commanded as he blocked one of the demon’s furious punches. 

_{You are unworthy of this power, you mortal piece of filth!}_ The demon spat at Peter._ {You wield it like an untrained infant! I will take back what is rightfully mine right after I have torn your limbs and head from your body!}_

“Thank, but I think I’ll pass,” Peter retorted grimly as he fought off the demon with Ray and Winston’s help. “I like my head just where it is. Besides...” He glared hatefully at the creature that had brutalized Egon. “I owe you some payback for Egon.” Having said that, Peter kicked the demon right between the legs, feeling that electrical surge discharge at the exact second that he made contact with the inhumanly large phallus that had threatened Egon the previous night. Peter could only imagine what kind of damage being electrocuted in such a sensitive area might cause.

_{ARGHH!!}_ The demon gave an unholy shout of pain, before it lashed out with both arms, knocking Ray and Winston to opposite sides of the room. It then retreated with both hands cupping its apparatus in a twisted human-like gesture._ {I underestimated you.}_ Its face contorted into a leering grimace as it watched Peter help Egon up off of his injured back._ {I misjudged you and attacked before my power had reached maximum levels. That won’t happen again. The next time I return, I will rape your precious Egon and force you all to watch. Then I will use the power within him to destroy you all.}_

Even after the demon had disappeared and the sensors had switched back to monitoring mode, Peter remained frozen where he was. He held Egon tightly in his arms, surveying the damage that the demon had caused. The entire room had basically been totaled by either the demon or the proton beams. If the demon had yet to reach its maximum strength, how the hell would they contain it when it did? They had barely escaped by the skin of their teeth.

“Peter!”

Peter stroked a trembling hand over Egon’s head, trying to calm him. He slowly turned his head in Ray’s direction, not liking the hysterical way his name had been called. Nothing good came of hysterics, especially not in their line of work.

“What is it, Ray?”

“It’s Winston! He’s hurt!”

“Damn it!” Peter reached backwards to grasp the cell phone on Egon’s nightstand. It was still too early for Janine to have returned to work so they were on their own in communicating with the outside world. Without bothering Egon, Peter tapped on the cell phone’s touchscreen and then entered his own birthdate to unlock the blond’s device. The only predictable thing about Egon was that he chose significant dates as passcodes, just like everyone else. Belatedly realizing that he didn’t really need to unlock the phone in order to dial 9-1-1, Peter went ahead and called an ambulance.


	9. Chapter 9

How many times had one of them been injured during a bust? Far too many times. Most of the injuries amounted to nothing more than scrapes and bruises, but there was the occasional bump on the head or dislocated shoulder that sent one of them to the emergency room. More often than not, the poor sucker who ended up being poked and prodded at was Peter. That man had the luck of the leprechauns when it came to attracting falling shingles, slipping on ectoplasmic puddles, or being dropped from ten feet in the air by pissed off poltergeists. So it only seemed fair that Winston give Peter a break and take one for the team by allowing himself to be thrown into Ray’s portable TV set.

Who the hell attached a TV set to the end of their bed frame anyhow? It wasn’t like Ray was hospitalized. He had two working legs that could carry him down to the rec room anytime he wanted to watch TV. Provided that Peter was not already hogging the TV set, or that Egon wasn’t draining all the power in the building for one of his experiments.

“How much longer is this gonna take?” Winston grimaced when the doctor - a businesslike woman with short graying hair and the boxy shoulders of an Olympic swimmer - removed another tiny piece of glass from his forearm with a pair of miniature forceps. She wasn’t exactly dressed like a doctor. When she’d arrived and been directed to the spot on the floor where Winston had found himself after regaining consciousness, she was wearing a plaid jacket over a mustard colored blouse. Before beginning to treat Winston, she had shirked out of the jacket and discarded it on the floor somewhere behind her. Winston was glad for her professionalism and dedication to her patients, but he could’ve done without her poor fashion sense. In a way, her taste in clothing was just about as poor as Egon’s. Maybe if Egon swapped shirts with her, Dr. Collins would end up looking more feminine and Egon less so. At least that’s what Winston imagined. He could love Egon like a younger brother and still want to burn all those pink shirts of his.

“I’m sorry, Mister Zeddemore, am I keeping you from something important?” Dr. Collins sarcastically asked. She continued to pluck the shrapnel out of Winston’s arm at a snail’s pace, ensuring that she missed nothing as she progressed from his elbow to his wrist.

“It’s not that.” Thankfully, the Ghostbusters were given preferential treatment whenever they called emergency services and received house calls from on-call doctors instead of being carted off to the hospital in an ambulance. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. That way they could be seen to in the comfort of their own home while the hospital could avoid getting involved in the paranormal. After all, it was common knowledge that the Ghostbusters took their work home with them, and anywhere else they happened to frequent.Winston hastened to set Dr. Collins straight on why he was so eager to get her out of the way before she took offence to his attitude. “It’s just that now isn’t the best time to have civilians around.”

“Why? Is your building haunted?” She laughed at the irony of her question.

No, Ghostbusters Central was not haunted. But anyone who lingered within the vicinity of Egon was bound to become a casualty. Choosing not to answer the question, Winston leaned back against Ray’s bed frame and willed himself to put up with another few minutes of glass extraction. Luckily the blow to his head was not making him see double or giving him more than a mild headache. Dr. Collins said that it could be a minor concussion and that the others should keep an eye on him for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours just in case. He doubted that anyone would remember to do so with everything they already had on their minds.

“How is he, Doc?” Ray asked from where he sheepishly stood beside his wrecked TV set. Only someone as bubbly as Ray could get away with calling a rigid woman like Dr. Collins ‘doc’.

“He’ll need stitches to close up two of the deeper puncture wounds, but other than that, he doesn’t seem to be too badly injured.” Dr. Collins straightened up and reached back for her medical kit. Upon doing so, she noticed the light blue nightshirt that Egon had been wearing on the opposite bed. It was turned inside-out and there were blood stains trailing from the collar straight down to the hem. Suddenly, Dr. Collins set her studious dark eyes on the two Ghostbusters whom she had yet to interact with. “Whoever was wearing that is going to require some medical attention.”

“Thanks, but we’ve got it covered,” Peter replied in his usual flippant tone. The brunette was sitting on his own bed now that Egon’s was torn apart in places and badly singed. Egon was sitting stiffly beside Peter in a fresh nightshirt of a similar shade to the previous one, his head buried in that demonic Sumerian encyclopedia. However, Egon was not reading at his typical genius pace. If Winston hadn’t been aware of the nature of the book that Egon had a death grip on, he would’ve assumed that the blond was reluctantly turning the pages of a horror novel. Even someone unfamiliar with Egon and his habits would be able to see the fear and anxiety in his expression. The physicist was an absolute nervous wreck. His hands were trembling, he was overreacting to every audible sound in the neighborhood, and he had yet to actually look at or speak to any one of them since the most recent attack. Probably the only thing holding Egon together was Peter’s presence at his side.

Peter had a way with Egon that seemed to soothe and reassure the blond. Winston couldn’t deny that he’d always been a bit envious of the strong bond that those two had. Despite the fact that Egon’s intellect constantly interfered with normal social interactions, he got on really well with a man who had mastered the art of marketing popularity. Peter was gentle and kind with Egon, always supporting him no matter how far from Earth the blond tended to stray with his ideas and aspirations. Occasionally, Peter teased Egon whenever he needed to ground him or return him to reality, but he never did so in a mean or cruel way. It was amazing, really, because Egon was just the type of nerd that a former jock like Peter would have bullied back in school. But according to the stories that those two told about their college history, nothing of the sort had ever happened between them. That wasn’t to say that Peter didn’t have his faults. If there was one thing that Winston disliked about Peter, it was the way he aggressively charged forward in life, keeping his peripheral vision willfully blind. Had Peter been the ideal ‘friend’ he claimed to be, he would have noticed long ago that Egon was hopelessly in love with him.

In the beginning, it had been cute and amusing to watch someone as stoic as Egon desperately trying to catch Peter’s attention. But that amusement had turned to sadness and pity whenever Egon dejectedly wandered out of the room upon learning that - once again - Peter would not be sleeping at home because he was spending the night at one of his lady friends’ apartments. And when Peter returned to brag about his latest conquest, completely oblivious to Egon’s crestfallen reaction, Winston felt like grabbing him by the collar and shaking some sense into him.

“Has the bleeding stopped?” Dr. Collins gave Peter a dirty look, directing the question at Egon instead.

For a second, Egon hesitated. Then, showing that he was incapable of lying or behaving impolitely, he responded to the question. “Not entirely... Peter’s medical expertise is usually quite sufficient...” As deferential as Egon’s tone was, he made no effort to make eye contact with the doctor. It also sounded like he was in a great deal of pain and incapable of hiding it.

Winston was very concerned about both Egon’s mental and physical state. As calm as the blond now seemed to be, he was descending into a sea of despair and depression. The only reason he was no longer hysterical is because Peter had dosed him with something before treating his back. Probably more diazepam because Peter would not be foolish enough to switch to morphine and risk a drug interaction. As for Peter’s medical expertise being ‘sufficient’, that was only if Winston himself or Ray were unavailable. Ray would probably have seen to Egon’s back if Egon had not cowered from him earlier on. The only person that Egon was currently tolerating in his personal space was Peter. Winston doubted that the blond would put up with a medical professional examining him if he was shying away from his closest friends.

“Hold this here.” Dr. Collins pressed a short strip of bandages against the open wounds on Winston’s arm after sterilizing them. “I’ll stitch you up in a few minutes.”

“Take your time,” Winston replied without any sarcasm. He completely agreed with Dr. Collins’ unspoken assessment of the situation. Egon was in worse shape than him and needed to be seen to immediately. He probably should have been taken back to the hospital after what had been done to him in the bathroom. The only reason he hadn’t was because it would have been impossible to ensure his safety in such an open environment. Besides, Winston had figured that Peter could treat the blond’s injuries so long as they didn’t include any broken bones or internal bleeding.

“It’s Doctor Spengler, isn’t it?” Dr. Collins questioned in the same unimpressed tone that she had used on Winston. She was most likely not accustomed to dealing with patients who refused or evaded treatment. That type of behavior obviously irritated her. “Would you be so kind as to disrobe so that I can examine whatever injuries caused that amount of blood loss?”

The second that Dr. Collins breezily strode over to the side of the bed closest to Egon, the blond fearfully jerked away from her. He carelessly dropped the tome on the bedsheets between them and backed straight into Peter. The action caused him to gasp in pain when his back pressed up against Peter’s arm, but he ignored it and reached for his left knee with both hands instead, clutching at it as if something were wrong with it. Had Peter missed an injury during his initial examination of Egon?

Dr. Collins froze where she was and exchanged a meaningful glance with Peter - the kind of look that conveyed a wealth of background information without any verbal interaction. Winston noted the way that Peter placed his hands over both of Egon’s, gently pulling them away from that knee. It could have been his imagination, but it seemed like Peter was being a lot more physical with Egon than necessary. Peter’s hands didn’t just remove Egon’s from the unexamined injury. The brunette’s fingers threaded through Egon’s slimmer ones, squeezing reassuringly. Then Peter leaned forward and whispered something in Egon’s ear that resulted in the blond gradually relaxing his posture. Peter’s overall body language was extremely protective and possessive. It wasn’t characteristic of how a man would care for his friend, but of how one would ensure the safety and wellbeing of a lover. That couldn’t be right because Peter wasn’t into men. And he had never expressed any interest in Egon... except for picking up rather expensive treats for the blond on occasion. No, come to think of it, Peter was constantly giving Egon little presents. Winston had never given it much thought before, aside from making an offhand comment once about how Peter was an inconsiderate ass for not getting something for everyone. Then there was the teasing. Peter was never out of Egon’s personal space. If the brunette didn’t have his arms around Egon’s shoulders, he had his hands on Egon’s glasses or tangled in the blond’s hair. But close friends usually fooled around like that, didn’t they? It didn’t mean anything, did it?

“This looks like a nasty bruise,” Dr. Collins was saying, completely ignorant of the way that Winston was now gawking at them. “I’m just going to examine your knee, if that’s alright with you, Egon?”

“Go ahead,” Peter answered on behalf of Egon when the blond failed to reply.

“There it is again!” From beside Winston, Ray’s hushed voice interrupted his speculation on what was going on between Peter and Egon.

“There what is?” Winston asked tiredly.

“Egon’s eyes are glowing.”

Sure enough, a pale violet glow was emanating from Egon’s eyes. During the attack, Egon’s eyes had burned fiercely with a mysterious energy that illuminated the blond’s face and surrounding atmosphere. However, the glow that Egon’s eyes was now giving off had been reduced to a muted purplish hue. Something was wrong with Egon. Very very wrong. Winston didn’t have to be a scientist or be holding a PKE meter to know that Egon was not doing well.

“He’s being drained by the demon,” Ray said with absolute certainty. “After all this... After what Peter did to it...”

Winston glanced over at Ray to see what the normally optimistic man was so distracted with that he couldn’t bother to finish his sentences. He was not surprised to find Ray’s attention on a familiar handheld electronic device. Stored inside that device’s vast database was all of the information on the supernatural known to man. It was much thinner than a standard e-reader, weighing a significant amount less than a Kindle or Kobo. When designing it, Egon had also ensured that it would be airtight, waterproof and shatterproof. Every spirit guide or encyclopedia that they had ever come into contact with was stored on that device. Everything except the enchanted and cursed books, like the tome that Egon was having one heck of a time forcing himself to read.

“Have you found anything?” Like perhaps an explanation for why Peter was suddenly exhibiting superhuman strength.

“I think that I’m actually onto something,” Ray murmured excitedly, still tapping away at the device’s touchscreen. “The eyes alone would’ve been difficult to look up because such a phenomenon can indicate a plethora of causes - possession being the most common. Although the colors vary from person to person...”

“So...?” Winston asked impatiently. His eyes narrowed when he saw Dr. Collins gingerly attempt to straighten Egon’s left leg. That’s when Winston saw the dark bruising covering Egon’s knee. _Damn! That better not be a fracture,_ he inwardly swore. Egon had already suffered enough. If he ended up needing a cast and three weeks of bed rest, that would just about push him over the edge.

“Peter’s symptoms are a lot rarer and easier to look up. Cross-referencing them with Egon’s brings us to...”

“_What_?” Winston demanded to know.

“Huh!” Ray snorted in disbelief. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“You will be if you don’t explain what the hell is going on with our resident genius. And fast! Peter or no Peter, Egon’s showing some extreme signs of cracking under all this stress. If he becomes anymore withdrawn, we’re gonna have to take him to someone who has more experience with trauma victims than Peter does.”

“That would be a _very_ unwise idea considering that those two are now psychically and spiritually linked.”

“Say what now?!”

In response to Winston’s outburst, Ray lowered the e-reader from his face in order to look him dead in the eyes. “Haven’t you ever wondered about Egon, Winston?”

Oh, so they were playing _that_ game again! The one where Ray skipped from topic to topic without actually getting to the point, dragging things on until Winston felt like an overused TV remote controller. “I’ve wondered a lot of things about the whole lot of you.” Winston let his shoulders droop in defeat. Insulting Ray wouldn’t make him explain things any faster. “So get on with it already.”

“Okay, let’s start at the beginning.” Ray leaned in closer and lowered his voice so that only Winston would be able to hear him. “Out of all the children in the world that the Boogieman could’ve terrorized, he chose an introverted boy who lacked any interest in the TV or horror novels. A boy who was far too intelligent to be fantasizing about monsters in the closet.”

“Yeah, we know this already. The Boogieman went after Egon because he was easy to scare. It’s not that hard to figure out why. A kid with no imagination for monsters would totally freak out when confronted with one.”

“Wrong.” Ray solemnly shook his head in disagreement. “Remember that the Boogieman was lured to the closets of his victims based on their fear. If Egon wasn’t originally afraid of anything, then why did the Boogieman target him? Why did he derive so much pleasure from tormenting a child who would’ve first attempted to disprove the encounter?”

“I’ve got no idea. _You_ tell _me_ why.”

Instead of elaborating on the Boogieman’s motives for going after Egon, Ray moved onto his second piece of evidence. “Out of all of us, Egon has been the one most often affected by possessions and transformations. There was the time his soul was sucked out of his body and replaced with that of a demon’s. Then there was that bizarre incident with the were-chicken! And let’s not forget that awful accident Egon had with the atomic destabilizer.”

“I’d rather forget that whole mess if it’s all the same to you,” Winston muttered. He never wanted to relive the nightmare of watching Egon being disintegrated right before his very eyes. And that horrible shout of pain that Egon had let loose before vanishing from sight... It was definitely not a memory that made Winston feel all warm and nostalgic.

“Scientifically speaking, Egon’s molecules should have been vaporized after that event. But he was somehow able to maintain cohesion of his molecules, albeit on a plane of existence parallel to ours, and survive the trip to the Netherworld - something which he really shouldn’t have been able to do in his condition.”

There was a pattern forming, slowly but surely. Winston just wasn’t sure what it was yet. “Is that it?”

“Not really. There’s also the time he was possessed by Kestrel - that witch who had it in for the whole Spengler bloodline. And last but not least is the whole shebang with that pet dragon of Egon’s. Don’t tell me that you didn’t think it was strange that a mythical dragon would come out of centuries of hibernation, gleefully begin to turn the city into a charbroiled mess, only to stop at the sight of Egon. Even if Egon does bear a slight resemblance to his ancestor, Zedikiah, there’s no way that his voice, scent or body language would be identical to that of a man who lived in the 18th century! The dragon would’ve known the difference. But instead of attacking Egon like the rest of us, it latches onto him and treats him like its beloved fur daddy.”

“The connection went both ways,” Winston reminded Ray. “Egon got awfully attached to that dragon. I thought we were gonna have to buy the lot next door and turn it into a fenced-in playground for that thing if Egon chose to keep it.”

“Exactly! Egon is attracted to the magic just as much as it’s attracted to him. He may not like the fact that it exists, but he can’t deny it either. That magic is what enticed the Boogieman to taint Egon’s childhood, although at that time it was buried so deep within Egon that the Boogieman wouldn’t have been able to see it for what it was. It is also what influenced Egon’s interaction with the various paranormal or magical entities that we have come into contact with. There’s a passage right here, under ‘Witches, Wizards and the Tenth Dimension’...” Ray thumbed back to a bulk of text that he’d already perused and shoved it into Winston’s face to ensure that he read it. “According to this ancient text, one of the descendants of the first witches or wizards would be blessed with an arcane power that was meant to be closely guarded and only used as a last resort against beings of dark origin. The chosen one would be pure of heart, body and soul, but possess no knowledge of the power that he’d been bestowed with lest he become corrupted by it.”

“This descendant is probably Egon, isn’t it?” Intending that to be a rhetorical question, Winston went ahead and asked another question that he needed to know the answer to. “So if this power belongs to Egon, why didn’t Egon electrocute that fucker when he was first attacked?”

“That’s not the way it works. Egon is only the vessel that was chosen to contain the power. There are many types of magic, Winston. The type that is referenced here is intended for a person with the blood of a warrior running through their veins. Their words, not mine. Egon does not come to mind when reading through this description. Apparently, the mismatch of power and recipient is intentional to avoid the abuse of that power. Two separate individuals are required to utilize this power - the vessel and the warrior. There must be a mutual agreement between the warrior and the vessel when unleashing the power, otherwise it remains dormant. And that’s where Peter comes in. Egon is the power supply and Peter is the trigger.”

“And this could’ve happened to anyone who’d been in contact with Egon at the time?”

“No.” Ray shook his head and thumbed forward to another passage. “_There must be a compatible link between both the vessel and the warrior_,” he read aloud, as if Winston couldn’t read it for himself.

Winston returned his attention to Egon, who was lying prone on the bed, squirming in agony as Dr. Collins stitched up one of the deeper engravings halfway down his back. That blue nightshirt was bunched up under Egon’s shoulder blades, leaving his lower body completely bare. Peter was sitting close to Egon, calmly stroking his cheek and telling him that it would all be over soon. His other hand was grasping Egon’s tightly, briefly holding it close to his lips before he kissed the back of Egon’s hand.

“What the hell was that?!” Winston asked Ray as he did a double take.

“A new development in their relationship, I guess,” Ray said with a grin. “That’s undoubtedly what cemented their connection.”

Pushing the image of Peter admiring Egon’s pert naked ass out of his mind, Winston willed himself to ignore the foreign interaction and focus on his conversation with Ray. “If the vessel and the warrior have to be compatible, then why is that demon able to access the power that Egon is unknowingly guarding? That’s why it was carving up his back, isn’t it? To get at the power?”

“The demon isn’t draining Egon of that power. It’s draining him of his life force. It’s doing to Egon what it did to all of its other victims - only slower. The symbols were probably meant to allow it access to the power, but it only resulted in unleashing it from its containment within Egon.”

“So it can’t touch the power now that Peter is in control of it?”

Ray levelled his gaze at Winston. “It can’t do so with a bond because Egon has apparently already shared that with Peter. But it can still destroy that link - and Egon - by achieving its initial goal. And if it wasn’t bluffing about coming back stronger, I don’t know how in the world we’re going to be able to keep Egon out of its clutches.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Would someone get me the phone? I’m gonna call and complain,” Peter said in a disgruntled voice as he tossed his crumpled up napkin onto the table.

“_Now_ what’s wrong?” Winston groaned.

“What’s wrong? I’ll tell you what’s wrong. There are anchovies on this pizza. I _hate_ anchovies! You hate anchovies. Egon hates anchovies. I can’t think of a single person who likes anchovies.”

“Um... I do,” Ray weakly admitted.

“Yeah, but we don’t.” Shoving the pizza box across to Ray, Peter gave him a withering look of annoyance. “At least when Winston orders the pizza, he makes sure that all those stupid vegetables are only covering half the pizza. This thing is an anchovy wasteland.”

“I asked them to only put anchovies on a quarter of the pizza,” Ray protested. “Honest. I don’t know why they went ahead and dumped them on the whole thing.”

“So I do get to complain after all,” Peter announced in triumph. “Where’s the phone?”

Egon leaned forward onto his elbows and slowly turned to page 765 of _Ancient Phenomena, demons, and human sacrifices_. In the background, the bickering over the pizza continued. Tuning out the debate over whether or not it was productive to have the pizza delivery man come all the way back out to Ghostbusters Headquarters to replace the pizza - or remove the anchovies, Egon silently let the language center of his brain switch over to Sumerian. Navigating through all the languages that he had picked up over the years was kind of like changing the background wallpaper on his cell phone. It was fast and easy to do and, once he’d done it, it made him feel like he was in a whole new reality. Not only were the words, sounds and grammar different in another language, but also the culture and way of thinking. Understanding Sumerian required a familiarity with incantations, as well as being comfortable with butchering the majority of grammar rules associated with the more modern and common languages. However, just because Egon understood the incantations did not mean that he practiced or approved of them. Magic meant nothing to him. Why would it? It couldn’t be substantiated by science and - for Egon - science was everything.

_Eight-legged female spider creature. Slays unfaithful men by slitting their throats, trussing them up in her web and disemboweling them_. Egon swallowed hard past the nausea that such an image put in his mind. Reading the old tome made him feel more than a little uncomfortable and queasy. There were vile descriptions laid out on just about every page and as he got further into the cursed encyclopedia, the torturous methods that the demons used to bludgeon their prey explicitly increased.

“Egon, can you please eat something?” Peter placed his hand on Egon’s arm in the attempt to get him to lower the book. “Your ham and pineapple pizza is getting cold.”

There was no need for Peter to express his concern more overtly because Egon was well aware of how awful he looked. Before sitting down at the dining table to wait for the pizzas to be delivered, Egon had gone to the bathroom to wash up. He had found the bathroom door hanging off of its hinges and a piece of old curtain hanging up over the bathroom entrance in its place. Peter had literally followed him into the bathroom, checking every nook and cranny for any possible hidden threats, before leaving Egon alone inside. And, even then, Peter had waited just outside the curtain should Egon require him for anything. Gazing sadly at his reflection in the mirror had revealed just how pale and ghastly Egon looked. In contrast to the lack of color in his normally healthy looking skin, the area around Egon’s eyes was red and puffy from all his crying. The only other splash of color in his face was the dark bruise on his cheek. Unfortunately, he felt many times worse than how he looked. He could barely walk without assistance due to the unnegotiable pain in his knee and the stiffness in his back. Dr. Collins might have mentioned something about mandatory x-rays once it was ruled safe for Egon to leave the premises, but Egon couldn’t be sure because the doctor hadn’t been addressing him. She had consulted with Peter after treating Egon’s injuries. For some reason, Egon had found himself incapable of communication when the sympathetic doctor attempted to interact with him. Peter had been the one to approve Dr. Collins’ use of a lidocaine injection to dull the nerves in the area where Egon was to receive the stitches. Peter had also taken down a list of references that he was supposed to contact - and coerce Egon into visiting - once things calmed down. But Egon had no intention of expressing his feelings of fear, violation and shame in front of some cold psychotherapist. What could a trained professional with a history of treating women - and occasionally men - who had been abused by another human possibly understand about a victim who had been attacked by a hulking demon?

_Demon lord of the shadows. Torturer. Rapist. Sadist._

Egon nearly flung the tome across the room.

“You’ve found it, haven’t you?” Ray’s face mirrored Egon’s horror as he placed his slice of pizza back down into the box.

A split second later, Peter was wrapping a comforting arm around Egon’s shoulders.

“You’re gonna have to read it out loud, homeboy,” Winston said as gently as he could. “None of us can read Sumerian.”

“Very well.” Egon tried to keep his voice neutral and unaffected. It was just a book and the only things it contained were words. It couldn’t hurt him. “_Demon lord of the shadows. Measuring in at approximately two hundred and sixty centimeters tall and weighing somewhere between four hundred and five hundred pounds. Distinguishing features... a tough black and purple exterior... back covered with rows of spikes..._”

“What else does it say?” Ray asked in alarm.

But Egon only shook his head, fighting back tears as he tried not to think about _the penis of monstrous proportions capable of excreting an acid-like substance that causes a burning sensation when contact is made._

“Skip it,” Peter said roughly. His arm tightened around Egon and he kissed Egon’s cheek, doing his best to be supportive and reassuring.

Egon gratefully left the rest of the paragraph outlining how the demon raped, drained and butchered its prey alone. “_The demon’s only prey are teenagers that have not yet lost their virginity._” It was nearly impossible for Egon to continue reading without feeling embarrassed and ashamed to find himself falling into that category despite the fact that he was a decade older than the demon’s usual targets. “_Once the demon has acquired its target, it will drain him or her to the point of death. There have been incidents documented where one of the demon’s chosen sacrifices had been removed from the demon’s field of influence. Regrettably, the rescued subjects later succumbed to the injuries they sustained from the brutal sexual contact, or were drained of their life force. No amount of distance between the demon and its marked sacrifice was able to deter the draining process._”

“This is _really_ not helpful.” Peter moved to take the tome from Egon to prevent him from reading any further details. “We already know all this sadistic bullshit. There’s no need to make him read anymore of it.”

“_Only one sacrifice has ever managed to escape the demon’s hold over her._” Egon wrenched the tome away from Peter and desperately scanned the next few sentences. “_Having been retrieved from the demon’s lair of slaughter, the girl of fifteen continued to deteriorate upon being returned to her parents. However, as she was scheduled to be wed to a boy she had been betrothed to in a neighboring village, the parents went ahead with the ceremony the following day. After that, for reasons unknown, the girl began to make a dramatic recovery. Although the demon murdered more than half of the teenagers in that village, the girl was spared. It is believed that the loss of her virginity broke the unnatural bond that tied her to the demon._”

As soon as Egon finished reading, a heavy silence descended over the dining table. Almost afraid to hear what the others were thinking, Egon glanced up from the tome to check their expressions.He knew that the information was not helpful to his case, so why were the others acting as if he had just given them the answer they had been looking for?

Ray was looking from Winston to Peter in a suggestive manner, and Winston was glaring at Peter as if he wanted to punch him.

“Downstairs - _now_!” Winston commanded Peter to follow him as he shoved his chair noisily backwards and stormed out of the room.

Wordlessly, Peter withdrew his arm from Egon and took off after Winston like he was preparing to knock his head off.

“What’s gotten into them?” Egon asked in dismay. He buried his face in his hands and groaned. One more push and he was going over the edge. There was just too much for him to cope with. The demon was the most horrible thing he had ever faced in his life. And being told that he was the vessel for some sort of magical powers pushed the limits of his practical reasoning. But now his - how should he refer to Peter now? - _boyfriend_ was on the verge of beating the living daylights out of Winston... or having it done to him. What else could possibly go wrong in his life?

“It’s not what you think.” Ray laid a comforting hand on Egon’s arm, only to have Egon pull away from him in discomfort.

“Sorry,” Egon said shamefully.

But Ray simply forced himself to smile and shrug the reaction off. “It’s okay, Egon.”

“_How long has this been going o_n?” Winston’s voice carried up to the second floor through the hole that the fire pole was centered in.

“_Can you be more specific? My telepathy seems to have turned itself off this morning,_” Peter sniped back.

“_Don’t play coy with me, homeboy. You know exactly what I mean. You getting it on with Egon. Did this happen before or after this demon crap?_”

“_If it had happened before, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, now would we?_”

Egon turned a bright red and tensed up upon realizing that he was the focal point of their argument. He was usually pretty dense when it came to casual discussions of a sexual nature, but this time he was fairly certain that he understood what Peter was implying with his sarcastic comeback.

Ray rushed over to the fire pole and crouched by the hole. “We can hear you all the way up here!” He warned the two men, but not before Winston blurted out his next comment.

“_So what the hell’re you waiting for? Get off your ass and solve the problem before that grotesque son of a bitch comes back for Egon_!”

The rest of the conversation dropped in volume after Ray’s warning, but Egon had heard enough. In all the time that he had been pining after Peter, Egon’s imagination had never wandered as far as Winston’s was doing now. Egon had never entertained the possibility that Peter would reciprocate his feelings, so he refrained from fantasizing about any of the specifics. He knew that he loved Peter and he was desperate to be with him, but that was it. The holding of hands was nice and the intensity of the kiss had shocked and delighted him. What came after that was both clear and unclear to Egon at the same time. He understood what was involved in the act of two men making love, but knew nothing of how it was actually accomplished. It all seemed awfully overwhelming and required a lot of trust and strong emotions. Was that really how Peter felt about him? Peter had blatantly stated that he wanted Egon in that manner, but had he just said that in the heat of the moment? Was Egon himself even capable of that level of intimacy? The most frightening aspect of giving himself to Peter in that manner was the typical outcome of all of the brunette’s relationships. After one or two sleepovers, Peter shirked off his temporary lover like an iguana shedding its skin. Egon desired more with Peter than _the experience of a lifetime_.

“Does the entry mention anything about weaknesses?” Ray asked, effectively drawing Egon’s attention away from whatever was going on downstairs.

“_Possible weaknesses could be the demon’s eyes, jugular, sternum and testicles_,” Egon read in disgust. “_It is a physical entity that must be attacked as such. The back is impervious to all forms of attack and should be avoided in order to conserve energy. When not in its corporeal form, the demon is able to move undetected through the shadows, therefore all shadows should be removed from defensible areas._”

“_I’m back_!” Janine’s voice carried up the stairs as she strode into the front office area downstairs.

“_Where the hell did you go_?” Winston asked in relief. “_You just came in and left this morning without telling anyone what you were doing_.”

“_Dr. V knew what I was doing. Oh, here you go, Peter_.”

“_What were you doing with his credit card_?”

“_She was helping me take care of things,_” Peter replied calmly.

“_Oh.._.” Winston sounded incredibly surprised at whatever it was that Janine passed Peter. “_Oh, man._..”

So Peter was serious? There was only one thing that Peter could have sent Janine out on an errand to buy. If Peter truly wanted to destroy the link that the demon had with Egon, then he would need to take away the one thing that the demon wanted the most - Egon’s virginity. And in order to do so, Egon would need to endure some minor discomfort that would be created from such an act. Janine had undoubtedly gone out to purchase a product that would lessen that discomfort.

At the sound of footsteps coming back up the stairs, Egon fixed his gaze back on the tome. He could feel the heat rising in his face and neck and his hands were beginning to tremble. He did not want to see the looks on the faces of Winston, Ray and Janine when Peter presented him with a bottle of sexual lubricant. But surely Peter wouldn’t be that tactless, would he?

“Egon...”

“Yes, Peter?” Still, Egon refused to look up. In his peripheral vision, he could see Peter approaching him with a paper shopping bag. Right behind him were Winston and Janine, and Ray was still lingering near the fire pole. Perhaps Peter really had no sense of decorum when it came to matters that ought to be kept private. Was it his imagination or did the others look just as nervous about Peter’s _present_ as Egon felt?

Peter pulled the tome away from Egon and discarded it onto the nearest empty chair. Then, he did something incredulous and bizarre - he took Egon’s left hand into his right and got down on one knee.

Egon looked up sharply, wondering why the introduction of some sexual aid required so much drama. But when he saw that the turquoise blue bag Peter had placed by his feet bore the logo for _Tiffany & Co._ and not _Walgreens_, his heart froze and he forgot to breathe.

“I know that the timing is lousy and there are more romantic ways to do this, but our lifestyle kind of makes these things difficult.” Fidgeting an awful lot for a man who prided himself on his good looks and phenomenal self-confidence, Peter reached into the bag and withdrew a small jewelry box. “And I would’ve picked this out myself but I couldn’t leave the building... for obvious reasons. So I sent Janine the link with the one I wanted and got her to buy it on my behalf.” Peter popped the lid on the box with one hand and held it open for Egon to see. Inside was a beautiful sparkling platinum ring that had a clear diamond in the center and two bee-like shapes also laid out with smaller diamonds on either side. Yellow gold accented the design by weaving and connecting the bees to the ring itself and the center stone. Egon was no expert when it came to jewelry and had never owned a single piece in his entire life, but he had no trouble judging just how serious Peter was from that incredible work of art. “Egon, will you marry me?”

Egon gazed down at Peter as his eyes began to fill with tears. He glanced back up again at Winston and Janine who were beaming with joy and excitement, and Ray who was also sniffling off to one side. Did he want to spend the rest of his life with Peter? _Absolutely_! Without even the tiniest fraction of doubt. “_Yes_!” Egon said with more enthusiasm than he had ever uttered a word with before.

For a second, Peter looked surprised, as if he had been bracing himself for Egon to turn him down. Then his face lit up elatedly and his eyes swam with tears. He carefully removed the engagement ring from the box and slid it onto Egon’s left ring finger. Amazingly, it fit perfectly. “We’ve been living together for too long for me not to know your ring size,” Peter confessed.

“It’s beautiful, Peter.” Egon marvelled at the beautiful ring on his finger and then looked at Peter expectantly. Peter stood up and leaned over Egon. He then placed both hands on Egon’s thighs and moved in to kiss him. As soon as Peter’s lips touched his own, Egon heard Winston give a loud cheer as Ray and Janine began to clap. Surrounded by such happiness and knowing that he was loved by Peter filled Egon with a wave of defiance. The demon could not touch him anymore. Nothing could. Giving himself completely to the kiss, Egon did his best to ignore the surge of energy that flickered in his eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter 11 is being posted a few days after 10, so please don’t forget to read chapter 10 first!!**

Nowadays, if you asked someone for a favor, they refused. Nobody wanted to do anything for anyone, especially not for free. However, if that same favor was asked for with a generous monetary amount attached to it, that reluctance quickly turned into a greedy eagerness. And if that person granting the favor sensed desperation, the negotiating process soon turned very ugly.

Peter did his best to put his financial woes out of his mind. This wedding - although costly - was worth every penny. _Egon_ was worth every penny. The insane bills that Peter would later receive for it was mainly due to its unique nature. For one thing, he had needed to have the entire thing arranged and ready to go within a few hours because time was of the essence. For another, it was happening outside at night. Nighttime weddings were not uncommon but nor were they very popular. Many things could go wrong at a wedding set at night, and the blurry photographs with hard shadows resulting from the lack of natural lighting ruined the best of photo albums. But this wedding had required a little something extra in order to make it work. Peter had rented floodlights, in addition to the soft pastel lights that were running down either side of the aisle, to illuminate any area of the botanical gardens that was not properly lit. There were to be no shadows anywhere near the wedding or the guests, as few of them as there were. Even the pathway from the parking lot was bathed in an overpowering glow that erased the details and faded the colors of anything and anyone it touched.

When Peter had shared his plan for the impromptu wedding with Egon, his fiancé had immediately offered to shoulder half the cost. In fact, Egon was so overjoyed at the prospect of being married to Peter that he probably would have given up all his savings, sold all his patents and moved into a trailer to make it happen. It was quite an exhilarating feeling to be loved that deeply by a best friend whom he had kept at arms length for all these years. In the end, Peter had told Egon that it wasn’t necessary for him to contribute, saying,“_Don’t worry about it. After we’re married, we’ll be sharing everything - personal debt included_.” To which Egon had broken out into a smile and almost laughed.

Ray and Winston were chipping in for some of the add-ons, like the wedding cake and the hors d’oeuvres. And Janine had hooked Peter and Egon up with one of her designer friends, who had done a rush job on their tuxedos, as well as given them a much appreciated discount.

“Peter, my boy, what’s the meaning of this?!” A short man with an outdated mustache and a fairly bad case of male pattern baldness burst into the rose garden in a panic. He was wearing a tacky brown and mustard colored suit with puffed up shoulder pads that did nothing to improve his stature. “You call me out of the blue and tell me to get all dressed up at the last minute, for what?! This’d better be good.”

Peter waited for his dad to catch his breath. He was well aware that the elder Venkman deserved an explanation for why he had been summoned to a floral garden in the middle of the night, but Peter didn’t fancy repeating the story twice. He preferred to go over the bare-minimum details as soon as Egon’s mom arrived.

Having noticed the very suggestive blue hydrangea and pink geranium-lined path leading up to an archway covered in white, pink and lavender roses, Mr. Venkman’s annoyed expression became shark-like.

“Is this a publicity stunt, Son? How much is this gig paying? Have you got one of those sexy models lined up for me as well?”

Gritting his teeth and counting to ten inside his head, Peter reminded himself that his dad was always this crude and tasteless. But this time his dad’s behavior was partially Peter’s fault because he hadn’t given the old man a head’s up on what was going on.

“Where is my son? Whose idea was this farce?”

Peter became extremely tense and nervous the second he heard Mrs. Spengler’s no nonsense voice calling out to them. Egon’s mom came charging down the path in a combative stride that didn’t go well with her elegant sapphire blue evening gown and matching high heels. _Now_ things were going to become complicated.

“Mrs. Spengler, thank you so much for coming out on such short notice.” Peter rushed over to her, attempting to impress his future mother-in-law with his gentlemanly manners. “Would you like to have some refreshments? Tea? Lemonade?” _Vodka_? “Please have a seat.” He automatically ushered her over to Egon’s side of the guest area, on the left, where the small table of drinks and overpriced finger foods were positioned.

“What, my son can’t come out to explain this to me himself?” Mrs. Spengler shook her blond head in disapproval. “When are you boys going to grow up? And you, Peter, why are you wearing the monkey suit? You aren’t the one getting married, are you?” Having known Peter since college, Mrs. Spengler was quite informal and bossy around him. Actually, she was pretty much like that around anyone and everyone. She was the complete opposite of Peter’s dad, who chose to act suggestive and sly in order to get whatever he wanted.

“Mom, you’ve arrived.” Egon appeared at the end of the aisle, having returned from the outskirts of the garden where he had been overseeing the installation of his demon sensors.

Egon looked ethereally beautiful in a pure white tuxedo with salmon pink trim lining the collar and vest. That seemed to be the blond’s go-to color when it came to clothing because he was also wearing a matching bow tie. His hair looked extra shiny and silky after Janine had sprayed him with some beauty product that caused everyone nearby to cough and sneeze. His azure blue eyes were glittering with anticipation behind his standard pair of red rimmed glasses, and his skin looked flawless. Both Egon and Peter had Janine to thank for the great job she had done in covering up their temporary facial imperfections. All Peter had required was a bit of foundation blended in over the stitches on his face, but Janine had spent a much longer time concealing the dark circles and red blemishes under Egon’s eyes, as well as the bruise on his cheek. The image of Egon standing there like that would have been perfect... if the sight of Winston supporting him with one arm wrapped around his slighter frame hadn’t ruined it.

Egon looked extremely uncomfortable at his close proximity to Winston because he was still struggling to control his reaction to being touched by anyone other than Peter. But seeing as how he could barely stand on his own, much less walk, he had no choice but to accept Winston’s support. He was still in a great deal of pain and moving aggravated his injuries. Peter would have been fine with just hiring a marriage officiant to legally wed them in the comfort of their own home. They could have saved the actual wedding for a later date, or renewed their vows in Hawaii once the demon was vanquished. But then Egon would have been less comfortable with the arrangement and more likely to regret it in the future. Not to mention the discord wedding behind their parents’ backs would have caused.

“What in the heavens is going on here?” Mrs. Spengler shook Peter’s hand off of her arm and stomped over to her son. “Are you sick? Why come to such an event if you’re unwell? My son, the masochist.”

It was a completely innocent comment, very typical of the sarcasm that Mrs. Spengler usually teased Egon with, but considering the circumstances, it came off very wrong.

Egon paled, his attention drifting out of focus as he was drawn back into a memory that may as well have been a nightmare. Before the entire atmosphere could be dragged into the pits of hell, Peter took Winston’s place at Egon’s side. He carefully supported his fiancé, well aware of the visual imagery that a man dressed in a black tuxedo embracing another man wearing a white tuxedo would create.

As Egon relaxed against Peter, his hand clasping the arm holding him up by the wrist, Peter felt an electric charge flash throughout his entire body. This wasn’t the first time it had happened so he was able to go on pretending as if everything was still normal. It had first happened after Peter proposed to Egon, and it had been happening every so often ever since. With everything else that was going on, he still had not mentioned the peculiar occurrence to Ray or Winston. Ray was busy putting together whatever it was that Egon had him working on, and Winston had his hands full with something that was going on down at the police station. A person could only concentrate on so much at the one time, which was why Peter decided to just brush off the recurring sensation of being electrically shocked. It wasn’t causing him any harm, and Egon was not being hurt as a result of it, so addressing the matter could wait until after the wedding. And after their first night together.

“Mrs. Spengler, Dad, there’s a lot going on right now that we really can’t explain... or that we’re not comfortable explaining,” Peter began, avoiding looking into his dad’s astonished face. “But Egon’s safety depends on this wedding going off without a hitch. Which doesn’t mean that this wedding is in any way fake or unintentional.”

“I think that we can agree that it’s obvious we’re here to attend a wedding,” Mrs. Spengler said sternly as she glanced over at Mr. Venkman. “The question is, _whose_ wedding are we here to attend?” Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Janine and raised a speculative eyebrow at her. Janine responded by shaking her head and going back to setting up the DSLR camera that she had no idea how to use. Egon’s mom then looked around the rest of the florally decorated area, trying to pin down another female candidate. She became visibly flustered when she couldn’t find one.

“That’s a good question,” Mr. Venkman chimed in. “You’re both wearing tuxedos but neither of you have...” He trailed off when he caught sight of the sparkling rock on Egon’s finger.

Peter hadn’t picked the ring because it was particularly flashy. He had chosen it because of the bees. The sales clerk had snobbishly explained that the bees on either side of the center diamond represented royalty and that bestowing such a ring on someone would result in a blessed wedding. He had also mentioned that the diamond was 2.23 carats and that the color, visual clarity and cut were superb. And that meant nothing to Peter who couldn’t tell a real diamond from the plastic ones _Barbie_ and her boxed friends came with. The main selling factor on the ring had been the fact that Egon was rather fond of bees. Of course he didn’t collect them like he did mushrooms, but he thought they were cute and intelligent. Also, having a sweet tooth, Egon adored honey.

“I think you’d better sit down, ma’am,” Mr. Venkman wisely suggested to Mrs. Spengler.

“Whatever for? I’m as strong and healthy as a horse. I can stand for hours,” she said matter-of-factly. “And don’t you _ma’am_ me. I’m not that old yet.”

“Suit yourself,” Mr. Venkman said with a shrug. “It’s your son wearing the rock, not mine.” Trust old Jim Venkman to act so breezy after noticing that Egon - the one wearing the engagement ring - was being protectively embraced by his son - the most obvious candidate for Egon’s suitor. Well, Jim had always been a very lax parent, whenever he was actually around to do any parenting.

Mrs. Spengler took one look at the engagement ring and gasped. But her reaction was not what anyone would have expected. Instead of moaning and groaning over the corruption of her son, she took hold of Egon’s hand in order to inspect the ring. She twisted it around Egon’s finger, checking out the diamonds, and then rubbed her fingers over the twisted band itself to see if the paint would come off. Through it all, Egon gripped Peter’s wrist painfully tight, bracing himself for his mom’s ultimate disapproval.

“Is it fake?” Mr. Venkman asked in a neutral tone. It was difficult to tell if he was hoping that it would be fake or that it was as real as it looked.

“No, this baby is the genuine deal.” When next Mrs. Spengler looked up, her gaze fixated levelly on Peter. She didn’t even bother asking if Peter had been the one to give it to Egon. She just instinctively identified the vulture who was about to take her darling boy away from her. “How did you afford it?”

Having expected to have his bones picked clean by an angry Momma Spengler - because everyone knew just how much she fussed over Egon - Peter found himself stammering over the answer to her simple question instead. “Uh... um... I bought it on a three-month installment plan.”

“How many carats?”

“Two point two three,” Peter repeated the number the sales clerk had told him.

“Engraved?”

“On the inside.”

“What does the engraving say?”

“Geez! _Seriously_?” Peter groaned.

“You had something engraved on the the inside?” Egon asked in surprise. The ring had basically gone from the box to Egon’s finger so it was no wonder that he knew nothing of the engraving either.

“It says ‘_P. V. Loves E. S. Forever_’. There. Are you happy? I’ve just been publicly humiliated.” Peter slapped his palm to his forehead and muttered obscenities to himself.

“That’s cute, man. Real cute,” Winston chuckled.

“You try putting something intelligent on a ring when you’ve only got twenty-five characters to do it in,” Peter challenged.

“I, for one, appreciate the sentiment,” Egon said softly.

It took all of Peter’s self-control not to start making out with Egon in front of the blond’s formidable mother.

“What do you think?” Mr. Venkman asked Mrs. Spengler.

“With an engraving like that you can bet your life that ring is not returnable.”

“You don’t seem surprised.”

“Neither do you.”

“My boy’s been sweet on your son since college. I figured they’d hook up sooner or later, but I never predicted marriage.”

“My son would never _hook up_ with your son without the security of marriage,” Mrs. Spengler pointed out. “Oh, Egon, I’d hoped that you might spare yourself more hardships in life by settling down with Janine over there.” Before Egon could protest or Peter get offended, she continued on a different note. “But deep down I knew that you’d eventually wind up with Mister Popularity here - your first and only crush. Don’t look so embarrassed. You had a picture of him under your pillow before you moved out. I just hope that you’re prepared for the media circus that’s going to follow this marriage. Otherwise... if you’re happy...” She moved forward to throw her arms around Egon but was intercepted by the arm Peter thrust between them. “What gives?” She asked suspiciously.

“Egon’s been _hurt_.”

“Hurt how?” Mrs. Spengler asked in alarm.

“Make it quick, homeboy,” Winston urged when Ray came rushing down the path with Janine’s Uncle Reginald - the priest who had been receiving computer lessons from Egon. “We’ve gotta get this show on the road.”

“My mother doesn’t need to hear the entirety of the story,” Egon cut in. “As soon as the ceremony is over and the cake eaten, everyone needs to leave - immediately.”

“Well, that’s one heck of an attitude to have at your own wedding,” Mr. Venkman joked. “Feed the guests and then kick them out.”

“This is no laughing matter, Dad. We’d like for this wedding to be as pleasant as possible, given the circumstances, but there won’t be any dancing or partying after it’s done. I think that you’ve noticed how bright it is in here. That’s to keep everyone safe. There’s a very dangerous _creature_ out there that we need to keep Egon away from and—.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Mrs. Spengler interrupted.

“What doesn’t?” Peter asked in exasperation.

“That you’re having this wedding when my son is in danger. Why not have it in the daytime or postpone it until after you’ve taken care of this danger? Egon shouldn’t be out here if he’s hurt. If you’re going to take responsibility for my son, you’d best keep him out of harm’s way from the get go.”

“I’ve gotta agree with the lady, Son,” Mr. Venkman said. “Now don’t go getting all temperamental. Can you imagine how this looks to us? You call us up and demand that we come to a wedding that we knew nothing about, after keeping your relationship secret from us for who knows how long, and then you tell us that you’ve got to rush through it because Egon is hurt and there’s some monster out there after him. What would you say to your future son if he pulled such a stunt on you?”

“What son?” Peter felt like pulling at his hair. “Dad, I’m marrying _Egon_. You know what that means about grandchildren, right?”

“I don’t know. What does it mean?”

“Let’s begin,” Ray announced as he came over to show Egon the PKE meter readings. “It’s still cool, but there were flickers.”

When Egon took a step forward, assisted by Peter, and staggered, Mrs. Spengler just about had a fit. “How serious are these injuries? It doesn’t look to me like he can make it down the aisle on his own.”

“Winston is going to help him,” Peter said. “And I promise that we’ll explain everything as soon as this is all over. But for now, can you both please try to be happy for us? I love Egon and this is me taking care of him. Trust me.”

“Thanks for inviting us, Son,” Mr. Venkman said as he clapped Peter on the shoulder. “Just tell me where you want me and I’ll go sit down.”

“Actually, I need a best man up at the altar with me.”

“Consider it done.” Off Mr. Venkman went to take his place at the altar, leaving Peter with Mrs. Spengler and Winston. If there was one thing Peter could rely on his dad being, it was ultra flexible. That was one of the best character traits of being a con man.

“Mrs. Spengler, we need someone other than Janine to sit on Egon’s side. If you wouldn’t mind...?”

“Oh, I mind alright.” Mrs. Spengler firmly nudged Peter aside and wrapped her own arm around Egon in a bear-like hug. She made sure to keep her arm in a similar position to the one Peter had held Egon in, avoiding the more serious injuries on Egon’s lower back. The elder Spengler was nearly as tall as Egon and looked to be much tougher than him. She probably had to be if she was taking karate lessons in her free time. She looked more than capable of supporting Egon on her own. “If anyone’s walking my son down the aisle, it’s going to be his mother. No offence to you, Winston.”

“No offence taken, Mrs. Spengler.” Winston glanced at the four chairs on Egon’s side of the wedding venue and then at the four chairs on Peter’s side. Janine was already on Egon’s side and Ray had arbitrarily chosen Peter’s.

Peter watched Winston start to sit down beside his buddy Ray, before being pulled over to sit by Janine. Even if there had been more time to plan things, Peter doubted that there would have been many more people sitting in those chairs. Egon was a very private person and socially shy, so he wouldn’t have had anyone else to invite aside from his Uncle Cyrus. And although Peter had quite a number of contacts listed in his cell phone, there weren’t many that he would consider ‘wedding guest’ material.

“Oh dear, am I late? I told the taxi driver to drop me off at the entrance but he left me outside the parking lot.” An elegant silver-haired lady of quite advanced years walked slowly up to them. She was clutching a basket of freshly baked cupcakes to her bosom with one hand and navigating along the path with a cane in the other.

“Mrs. Faversham!” Peter declared in relief. “I was beginning to worry about you. You should’ve called my cell so I could come out to the parking lot to meet you. I don’t want you walking around all by yourself late at night.”

“Oh, Peter,” the old lady sighed good-naturedly. “There’s no need for that. No one’s going to bother a woman of my age.”

While only people who interfered with the demon’s sacrifices usually got attacked, Peter didn’t want to take any chances. He was going to personally see to it that Mrs. Faversham got home safely after the ceremony was over.

Turning around in a wide circle to inspect everyone in the immediate vicinity, Mrs. Faversham did a double take when she saw how attractive Egon looked all done up in such a fine white tuxedo. “Oh my, don’t you look lovely! It’s splendid to see you again, Egon.” Mrs. Faversham removed a blue silk handkerchief from her dress pocket and placed it into Egon’s hand. “There you go, dear. Something blue.”

“Thank you very much, Mrs. Faversham. That’s very kind of you.” Egon politely accepted the compliment and the handkerchief but not without some confusion.

“It’s for luck,” Mrs. Spengler explained. “The bride is supposed to be given something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue.” Before Egon could protest about being referred to as ‘the bride’, Mrs. Spengler stuffed her car keys into his right pocket. “You can borrow the keys but not the car.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Egon muttered in embarrassment.

“Here.” Peter slipped a card into Egon’s opposite pocket.

“What is that?”

“Something old. It’s my lucky Upper Deck Jack Morris collectible baseball card.”

“You do realize that the superstition doesn’t apply if there is no bride, do you not?” Egon asked Peter after Mrs. Faversham had withdrawn a brand new, mint condition penny from a zipped-up compartment in her purse.

“Sweetheart, just take your lucky charms and meet me at the other end of the aisle.” Leaving Egon in the capable hands of Mrs. Spengler, Peter led Mrs. Faversham over to his side of the guest area. Mrs. Faversham was a delightful lady - someone whom Peter considered to be much like a surrogate mother. He had met her on one of his very first busts. After removing a vengeful spirit from her attic, Peter had stayed behind to accept her hospitality and keep her company for a few cups of tea and a game of checkers. Being quite lonely and timid living in such a big house all by herself, and having no children of her own to dote on, she had grown quite attached to Peter. And Peter, reminded of his own mother who had sadly passed away sometime during his youth, had taken to visiting Mrs. Faversham every now and then to see how she was doing and spend some time with her.

“Why, Ray, you look absolutely radiant. Have you lost weight?” Mrs. Faversham asked as she took the seat next to Ray.

“Thank you, Mrs. Faversham. I don’t know. We don’t have a scale at the firehouse,” Ray replied with a bright smile.

Peter took the cupcake basket from Mrs. Faversham and quickly moved away from them. If anything, Ray had probably gained a few pounds after the leftover Easter chocolate sale at Walmart. The reason why Ray’s cheeks were so rosy and his eyes super bright was probably because he was on the verge of crying. Peter wanted to be nowhere near him when he started to do that because then Peter would end up breaking down alongside him.

As soon as Peter took his place on the right side of the altar, the violinist - who had been doing some warm-up stretches behind the thick rose archway - made herself visible to the left side of _Father_ Reginald. She was dressed in a pink evening gown and had her hair tied up in a bun behind her head. She waited until Peter had taken his position before lowering her violin bow to the strings in an crisp, drawn-out note. From there, she drifted into a soulful melody that brought the florally decorated venue to life. Suddenly, the floodlights didn’t matter, nor did Janine’s clumsy handling of the camera at her disposal. The only thing that filled the air and Peter’s soul was the thrumming of those heavenly notes. But that was soon replaced by the heavy pounding of his heart and a sudden clamminess in his palms. When Peter looked up, Egon was nearing the altar. The blond was blushing and concentrating on the grassy path in front of him, apparently too nervous to look up to watch where he was going. That was so typically Egon. Peter thought it was adorable that the physicist responded to supernatural threats and Armageddon-like disasters with the utmost confidence, while a little social gathering would have him tripping over his shoelaces. Well, maybe this wedding was not what one could refer to as “little”. _Life-changing_ and _earth-shattering_ might be better definitions.

When Egon was close enough, Peter reached out to steady him, and Mrs. Spengler took a step back.

“You okay?” Peter whispered before the music could fade. It was a wonderfully romantic melody, whatever it was. Egon had requested that they play some sort of classical music, and Peter had just gone along with it. It seemed more appropriate than_ Here comes the bride_ in any case.

“There are _butterflies_ in my stomach, Peter,” Egon whispered back urgently.

Upon hearing that, Peter grinned. “Butterflies, huh? Want me to catch them for you?”

“As a matter of fact, I would greatly appreciate it if you would.”

Peter grasped Egon’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Better?”

“Yes and no. Your hand is sweaty.”

Peter glanced over at Egon and traded an affectionate grin with him. This was one of the reasons why he loved Egon so much. They understood and complemented each other so perfectly. There was nothing that Peter could do or say that would possibly offend or scare Egon off. The blond knew all of Peter’s worst habits and incriminating secrets. He had seen the foolish things Peter wasted his money on, and he knew all about the dirty laundry that Peter occasionally dumped into the closet because he was too lazy to take it down to the washing machine. He tolerated Peter’s tone-deaf singing and was not afraid of Peter’s volatile temper tantrums. And the most impressive thing yet was that Egon had hung back, watching as Peter went from one failed relationship to the next, sadly - but patiently - awaiting his turn. That kind of loyalty and commitment was hard to come by these days. No - impossible to come by. If Egon had not been as single-minded as he was about wanting to be with Peter, then Peter would have certainly lost him a long time ago. Because no one in their right mind would pass up on someone as sweet and innocent - albeit nerdy and slightly eccentric - as Egon.

When Peter had first learned of the demon’s motives for attacking Egon, he had automatically come up with a solution. If the demon wanted Egon because he was ‘pure’, then all Peter would need to do to ward the demon off was to make Egon ‘impure’. There had never been any question of whether or not he would be comfortable with romantically influencing his best friend. He had always been attracted to Egon, and he had fallen in love with him pretty early during their college years together. Peter would be lying if he denied fantasizing about the blond even back then. So he really didn’t need any coaxing in order to take Egon to bed... if it were to come to that. But what had bothered Peter was Egon’s inexperience and apparent desire for something more meaningful than a casual fling. What reason would Egon have for not even wanting to experiment with another man while he waited for Peter? As angelic as Egon may have been, he was also human - and a male one at that. It just wasn’t possible for him to have gone through puberty and then entered the stage of young adult without experiencing sexual urges. But somehow - as unbelievable as the concept was for Peter to grasp - Egon had managed to suppress his sexual needs. The only reason Peter could come up with for Egon’s reluctance to fool around was that he was expecting something specific from his ideal relationship. Something that only Peter was deemed acceptable of providing him with. And that is when Peter had come to the conclusion that Egon was after a suitable lifemate to become legally attached to - a compatible _husband_ that he would be able to trust with his life and his heart. So Peter had gone out and done the only logical thing he could think of.

While Ray had spent over an hour trying to convince Egon that magic ran through his blood, Peter had been downstairs persuading Janine to do his bidding. Oh, that wicked woman had made him jump through hoops, forcing him to prove that he was in it for the long haul. But in the end, Janine had cheerfully rushed off to the jeweller’s with Peter’s credit card in her purse and the link for the exact ring that Peter wanted saved on her cell phone.

If marrying Egon and consummating their love would keep him safe, then Peter would do it and enjoy the long-term benefits of being married to the gorgeous blond. But if that wasn’t enough to deter the demon, then Peter would do everything in his power to destroy that despicable abomination.

“On behalf of the groom and... um... _groom_, I would like to welcome you all here today.” Father Reginald raised an eyebrow at the sparsely occupied seats and promptly lowered his voice. There was no need to project his voice to cover the entire flower garden when there was only one row of guests before him. It was no wonder that Peter had never made the connection between good old Reginald and Janine before because they looked nothing alike. The graying priest was the most mundane religious man that Peter had ever laid eyes on, while Janine was a firecracker with red hair. How they were even related was beyond him. “We are gathered here today to join in holy matrimony a pair of best friends who have grown to be so much more to each other. We will finally see a love that began many years ago reach its natural conclusion. Today Peter Venkman and Egon Spengler will be committing themselves to a life together in order to cement the unbreakable bond that they now share. This new chapter of their lives they will not enter into lightly, but through a mutual love and respect for each other that will transcend any boundaries or limits that were in place before.” After a bit of a pause, Father Reginald glanced at Peter. “And now the grooms will read their vows?”

_What vows?_ Peter had planned every last bit of the wedding, all the way down to the white flower petals scattered at the foot of the altar to cover up the wet mud that they were now standing on. He had rush ordered a cake, helped Egon pick out a pair of white matching shoes, and sent Janine back to Tiffany & Co. after Egon had accepted his proposal. He had wanted to get most of the arrangements done on his own so that everything would be just right. But what he hadn’t thought of were the vows. He had never been to a wedding before. From what he’d seen on TV, the vows were usually read out by the priest and copied by the couple getting married. Weren’t they?

“Uh... yes, Father. The vows...”

“_Peter, what vows_?” Egon whispered near Peter’s ear. “_Were we intended to write a personal speech of some sort_?”

“_Looks that way_.” Peter whispered back. Then, holding Egon securely and smiling cockily at him, Peter just said what was in his heart. “Why am I marrying you, Egon? Because I can’t get enough of you and I’m sick of sharing. I’ve had my eye on you ever since our second semester of college, when you started to follow me around on the pretence of helping me raise my GPA. I mean, sure, you did save me from flunking out on more than one occasion, but you didn’t do it because you thought I was pathetic or in need of pity. You did it because you actually liked me. And that was just weird because jocks and nerds are usually sworn enemies in school. But you know what? I liked you, too. What’s not to like? You’re super intelligent - genius level intelligent - and nearly as witty as I am. You’re also incredibly kind and generous. You’re always going on about how we should not do things because of the money involved. Thanks to you, we’ve spent several months in the red to compensate for your good deeds,” Peter joked. “Even your Uncle Cyrus has commented on how big your heart is. But he might not have meant it in a positive way after he found out that you were feeding and playing with the lab rats instead of actually experimenting on them.” Peter squeezed Egon a bit tighter. “But the person who you are the kindest and most generous towards has always been me. I don’t know how you’ve been able to put up with me for this long or where you get your patience from, but it seems like I can do no wrong around you. There will never be anyone like you who accepts me for who I am - who loves me despite all the crap I pull. And there will never be another person who I love as much as you. I’m not going to risk losing you by putting this off any longer. So, tonight, Egon, I’m going to marry you and make you formally mine - you beautiful blue-eyed blond physicist you!”

Egon stood there as pale as a sheet, trembling and fighting back tears. “Putting up with you has never been a hardship, Peter,” he said in a tone that was devoid of his normal stiffness. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You have always been nothing but compassionate and understanding with me... despite my inability to communicate with you in a way that you are most familiar with. As far back as I can remember, you have always looked out for me. Whether it be preventing me from falling prey to some immature humiliating prank or...” Egon hesitated, perhaps remembering where they were and who was listening to him. “Or worse,” he said without elaborating. “No matter how hard you try to project an image of irresponsibility and aloofness, I know that you actually care and that I can rely on you. But aside from that, being around you makes me happy. Happier than I can ever recall feeling in my entire life. Your enthusiastic energy is infectious and your humor much appreciated. I would consider myself honored and lucky to be married to a man as wonderful and handsome as yourself.”

Before Peter could smother Egon in kisses right then and there, Father Reginald reclaimed the attention of their small emotionally sensitive audience. “And now, Egon, do you take Peter to be your husband? Do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect him, forsaking all others, and holding only unto him forevermore?”

“I do,” Egon answered with the utmost sincerity.

“And Peter, do you take Egon to be your husband? Do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect him, forsaking all others, and holding only unto him forevermore?”

“Hell yes!” Peter replied a little too colorfully. He quickly corrected his answer to, “I do,” when he caught the way Father Reginald was sternly glaring at him.

“Peter and Egon will now exchange rings as an unbreakable symbol of love and commitment to each other. A circle that is without beginning or ending,” Father Reginald continued. “They mark the beginning of the eternal journey that you will be embarking on together. Peter, please place the ring on Egon’s left hand and repeat after me.”

Peter withdrew the simple yet sleek platinum band that he had chosen for Egon. Then, sliding the ring onto Egon’s ring finger and positioning it up against the engagement ring, he repeated the lines that Father Reginald obviously knew by heart. “As a sign of my love. That I have chosen you. Above all else. With this ring, I thee wed.”

When it came to Egon’s turn, Peter locked eyes with him and held his gaze in an intense look of love, waiting to receive the matching band that Janine had charged to Egon’s credit card. “As a sign of my love. That I have chosen you. Above all else. With this ring, I thee wed.”

“And now by the power vested in me by God and the state of New York, it is my honor and privilege to declare you married. Go forth and live each day in the joyous company of each other, never taking for granted the love that you now share. You may now seal this declaration with a kiss.”

_Finally_! Feeling as if he were overflowing with happiness, Peter swept Egon into his arms and passionately kissed him on the lips. Although it was only Egon’s fourth kiss - ever - the blond practically melted into it. He pressed up against Peter and parted his lips to invite Peter closer, and his arms locked behind Peter’s neck. Embracing Egon in front of their family and friends, having just professed their undying love for each other, stirred up very powerful feelings in Peter. He sealed his lips over Egon’s and gently stroked his tongue against the blond’s. He kept the kiss tender and sweet, knowing that he would have plenty of time to do other more adventurous things to his new husband later. At the sound of clapping and cheering, Egon’s eyelids fluttered open again in embarrassment. All the commotion would have spooked Egon either way, but the fact that most of the hooting was coming from his own mother probably made it ten times worse.

“Congratulations!” Mrs. Spengler cheered as she hugged Peter and Egon together, still being mindful of where she assumed Egon to be injured.

“Welcome to the family,” Mr. Venkman said warmly as he gripped Egon’s forearm. “You’re a Venkman now and us Venkmans stick together.”

“Guys... that was so... so... _beautiful_,” Ray sniffed as he approached the altar with the others. The violinist had resumed her playing, this time choosing something more traditional.

“Ray, c’mon,” Peter pleaded. Egon was already emotional enough. One look at Ray and Egon was going to mess up whatever Janine had applied around his eyes with uncontrollable tears. And that would make choosing a nice wedding picture to frame very difficult for them once all the photos were developed.

“Yeah, man. Those vows were filled with some raw emotions. You almost got me choked up.” Winston clapped Peter on the back and briefly touched Egon’s shoulder. “You ready for a group shot?”

“Am I ever!” Peter leaned over to Winston and muttered, “Make it quick before Ray starts with the waterworks.”

Janine passed the camera to her uncle and found a place to stand beside Egon’s mom. Egon and Peter were positioned in the center with Peter’s dad on the other side. Winston, Ray and Mrs. Faversham pressed in close behind them. They took a number of photos in various poses, before Janine reclaimed the camera to focus solely on Peter with Egon. Even though the entire garden was lit up, it was done so in a stylish way. There were no harsh lights anywhere near the archway so as not to overexpose the lighter colored roses or Egon’s white tuxedo. And they could still see the starlit sky and feel the fresh cool air of the night on their faces and necks. It may not have been the wedding that either Peter or Egon had envisioned, but it was perfect all the same.

And once the food had been eaten and the cake cut, Mr. Venkman and Mrs. Spengler returned home after wishing them well. Mrs. Spengler offered to drive Mrs. Faversham home, even accepting her invitation to stay for tea. And Uncle Reginald was kind enough to stay behind to help the staff clean up so the rest of them could leave.

“Did you hear that, Egon?” Ray asked belatedly as they were driving back to the firehouse in Ecto. Peter and Egon were in the backseat, with Egon resting sleepily in Peter’s arms. “You’re a Venkman now! Isn’t that great?”

“I don’t think that Mr. Venkman meant it literally,” Winston chuckled from the driver’s seat. “Now wouldn’t that be confusing? Having two Venkmans on the payroll.”

”One Venkman is more than enough,” Janine added.

“Actually...” Peter interrupted uncomfortably.

“I’ve decided to take Peter’s surname and keep Spengler as a middle name. It’s quite common nowadays,” Egon stated matter-of-factly, rambling on as he had a habit of doing when he was nervous.

“Egon Spengler Venkman,” Winston sounded out the words with a shake of his head. “What the heck’re you gonna do about your uniforms?”

“Leave them the same to avoid confusion,” Peter said with a shrug. “It’s no big deal, really. I asked Egon to consider the name change and he agreed to it. It’ll affect our personal lives more than our professional ones.” Peter pressed an affectionate kiss to Egon’s forehead and was rewarded with a loving smile.

“I hate to change the subject but are you guys ready for tonight?” Ray bluntly asked.

“_Raymond_!” Egon automatically chastized his friend for the crude question.

“That’s classy, Ray. Real classy,” Peter snickered.

“I meant with the lights and weapons,” Ray corrected them. “We’ll be right downstairs but your _actions_ could spur this demon into attacking without hesitation or remorse.”

“I’ll be ready for that freak show if it tries to make an appearance tonight,” Peter promised. He had already vowed to protect Egon with his life, but now he would be risking everything not for a friend but for his beloved husband.


	12. Chapter 12

What made a person attractive? As advanced and forward-thinking as most of the population claimed to be, the deciding factor in making that judgment usually ended up being physical appearance. It mattered how tall a person was, how slim, angular or curvy. Were the features on the person’s face symmetrical? How big were the eyes? How far apart? What color were they? Very rarely was the person in question’s skin ever overlooked. If it wasn’t as smooth as porcelain, or if there were any visible imperfections, it got adjusted with an airbrush in Photoshop.

While not flawless by any means, Egon Spengler was undeniably attractive. He was tall, slim and delicate looking. Oh, he could run around with that mechanical eyesore on his back - that _thing_ Egon himself had identified as a ‘proton pack’ in his official legal patent - and he was highly resilient in the face of danger. But in the end, he was fragile and breakable. It wouldn’t take much to break a bone here and there, to crush those thin wrists of his, or to slice open his tender flesh. His thick fair hair was just the perfect length for grabbing him by and wrenching his head back. And those lovely blue eyes of his were most beautiful when they were engulfed in pain and terror.

But looks were not everything. At least not to Hul-Rim.

Egon also smelled delectably sweet and pure, like a fresh meal to be had. Violently divesting him of his clothing had been like ripping open a well wrapped present. And it had felt good to grab him by his frail limbs, bruising that soft creamy skin and damaging that smooth lean back. Squeezing him by the throat until he choked and gasped had also felt incredibly pleasant.

Over the centuries, Hul-Rim had feasted on a variety of humans. While most of them had been teenagers and virgins, that was the only thing they had in common. There had been blonds, brunettes, redheads, males and females both large boned and small. Some had originated from the west and others from the east. He took them from family gatherings, neighborhood parties, or when they were out alone on the street. He even collected them from nighttime school events and the back alleys of clubs and bars. Hul-Rim wasn’t at all picky when choosing sacrifices from rich families or poor families.He was not afraid of being challenged by loved ones wielding archaic or modern weapons. The most they could do was anger and irritate him, and that was before he slaughtered them all.

In all the time that Hul-Rim had been satiating his appetite on the innocent little humans, he had only lost one of his sacrifices - the one young girl who had escaped his clutches many lifetimes ago. Only virgins could quench the unholy thirst that he had for human flesh, so once that village whore had gone and sullied herself with her male accomplice, Hul-Rim had lost interest. He could have torn her and her entire village apart but that would have been a waste of his time. Instead, he had redirected his attention to her rival clan in the neighboring village, completely obliterating its adolescent population. Now, however, looking back on the discrepancy on his perfect track record, he realized that he had made a mistake. A grievous error that had come back to haunt him. For when he had let that girl go, he had set a horrible precedent - one that Peter Venkman was basing this rushed wedding on.

Hul-Rim edged closer to the blindingly lit flower garden and growled menacingly low in his throat. The whole area was blanketed in one form of lighting or another and not a shadow was to be found anywhere between the parking lot and the altar where his delicious sacrifice was cowering.

After stumbling upon the magical power within Egon, Hul-Rim had performed a forbidden ritual that ought to have bound the weak human to him. He had painstakingly carved a Sumerian claim of ownership down Egon’s spine, branding the sobbing weakling as his own private property. Regardless of the failsafes that had been placed on the power that Egon was unknowingly guarding, Hul-Rim should have been able to override them with brute force. Given enough time alone with Egon, he could have hurt him so badly that the blond would have begged him to take the power in the end. And if there was one thing Hul-Rim excelled at, it was hurting people. Burying himself deep within the blond in one sadistic, gleeful thrust would have been all he needed to steal the power and wring the most tortured suffering from the virginal Egon Spengler. Just the thought of the screams Egon must be capable of, or the way his flesh would tear and bleed as he was mercilessly penetrated, made Hul-Rim salivate with anticipation.

But Hul-Rim’s fantasy was sharply contrasted against the reality of the situation. He was no longer psychically connected to Egon due to Peter Venkman’s interference. At first, Hul-Rim had thought that the blockade preventing him from accessing Egon’s mind was only temporary. When last he had entered Egon’s mind, there were still numerous unprotected areas that he could take advantage of. All he required was a bit of rest and a little _snack_ to boost his powers back up to a suitable level. But when he attempted to breach Egon’s mind again, he had nearly been scorched by a formidable psychic barrier. The worst part about it was that Peter was not the one who had erected it. Egon himself was unconsciously releasing more and more of the magic into his surrounding environment as a means of defending himself. And not only was it keeping Hul-Rim out of Egon’s mind, but it was also intermittently filling Peter with an electrical charge. The _vessel_ \- Egon - was now aware of a secondary purpose to his existence, and having possession of that knowledge had inspired him to indiscriminately vent the magic within him. This meant that Egon was fulfilling his side of the union that he now shared with Peter. All that was now required was for Peter to realize what Egon was doing, absorb the power, and redirect it as he pleased. Before that happened, Hul-Rim needed to extract Egon from his group of supporters, defile him, and use that power to shred the Ghostbusters to pieces. As an added bonus, he fully intended to torture and kill every person in attendance of Peter and Egon’s foolish wedding.

Hul-Rim crept closer, staying at the very edge of the shadows as he appraised the joyous ceremony from the far end of the parking lot. He had never attended a wedding before so he had no way of determining how long it was supposed to last or what exactly it entailed. He could interrupt it at any time, but then he would have to deal with those menacing proton packs. There were five of them partially concealed near the altar - four under the guest seats, and one behind the rose archway on Peter’s side. At full power, Hul-Rim could have withstood another few blasts from those particle beams, but not in the state he was currently in. He was still injured as a result of Peter’s surprisingly powerful attacks, and his power was waning from a lack of nourishment. He needed to feed - and soon. And there was only one tender human that he wished to taste on his tongue.

Watching Egon lean closer to Peter in order to slide something onto the alpha male’s finger, Hul-Rim began to grow impatient. Humans were full of superstitions and pretentious ceremonies. This ceremony in particular Hul-Rim despised because it signified the loss of innocence, which meant one less delicious sacrifice. Hul-Rim would not allow a mere human to deprive him of this particular sacrifice. Compared to all the rest, Egon Spengler was much sweeter and far more innocent - an untouched virgin of a more mature age with literally no experience. And filled to the brim with a potent magic that had the potential to make Hul-Rim invincible. He would not lose Egon or that power to a lower life form like Peter Venkman.

“_You may now seal this declaration with a kiss.”_

Hul-Rim glanced up sharply, wondering what he had missed. His stomach turned when he saw that Peter had aggressively thrown his arms around Egon and was now kissing him. The act of kissing did nothing for Hul-Rim unless it was used to shame his victims even more. Only then would he get some satisfaction out of it.

An unbearable amount of noise followed the kiss - shouting, clapping and cheering. To think that eight humans were capable of that level of auditory chaos. _Wait_! Did that mean that the ceremony was over?

Hul-Rim could approach no further without revealing himself to the humans. What he could make out from his vantage spot was that overbearing blond cow kissing her son on the cheek and congratulating him on his newfound happiness. On the other side of the altar, the puny excuse for a man passing as Peter’s sire was secretly giving his son a pep talk on _doing things right_ on his wedding night. Inside Hul-Rim a maelstrom was building. There would be no wedding night. The only one who was going to be doing anything to Egon was Hul-Rim himself.

“_This one is definitely going up in the office,_” Janine - the vapid tool responsible for managing the Ghostbusters’ primitive form of communication with the outside world - said in excitement. She was showing Peter and Egon something on the screen of a device that was capable of preserving visual memories. Whatever was on that screen had Egon looking tearfully happy and Peter so damn proud of himself.

“_Guys, they’re bringing out the cake_!” The unsightly large Ghostbuster named Ray announced. Behind him was a man pushing a white three-tiered wedding cake on a small trolley. The cake was decorated with miniature white and pink roses and on the top was some ridiculous ornament bearing the Ghostbusters’ no-ghost logo, except that this one was pink instead of red.

_“Oh, what a pretty looking cake_,” the old decrepit woman filling in for Peter’s absent mother commented.

Hul-Rim could think of nothing better than to smash all their faces into that towering concoction of heavy cream, sugar, eggs and butter. He had not shown up at this event to bear witness to a bunch of cheerful humans fattening themselves up on sweetened delights. In fact, he had even attempted to stop the ceremony entirely by breaking into the coroner’s office to finish devouring the remains of his sacrifice victims. There hadn’t been much left for him to consume, but the snack had given him a spark of energy to sufficiently function for the next few hours. He had hoped that the disturbance would disrupt the bonding ritual between Egon and Peter, but none of the Ghostbusters had responded to it. They no doubt considered Egon’s safety to be a higher priority than the desecration of what was already dead.

“_This is the most delicious cake I have ever eaten_,” Egon declared after Peter had served him a mouthful on a fork. The cocky prick who was forever preening himself for his imaginary audience was possessively embracing Egon from behind. If Peter smiled any wider, he would end up cracking his face in two.

Peter brushed his lips over Egon’s cheek, affectionately kissing him, before feeding him another bite of that sickeningly sweet cake. “_You say that about every decent cake that Winston orders_.”

“_I’m not exaggerating, Peter. It’s wonderful._” Egon accepted the second bite and then made a pleased sound that could have been a reaction to being sexually stimulated. Although Hul-Rim couldn’t understand why humans became aroused when eating sweets, he did like the sound that Egon made when doing so. It caused him to imagine what noises Egon would make while Hul-Rim toyed with him.

“_You’re right. This is the best cake - ever_!” Peter had just helped himself to a forkful of the cake and was now digging in for a second helping.

“_Mmm, yum! They’re right, Winston! How did you find this cake shop_?” Ray was quickly stuffing his face with the cake on his plate while eyeing how much of it was left on the cake stand. With any luck, Ray would end up eating himself into a cardiac arrest, which would save Hul-Rim the trouble of killing him.

“_An old buddy of mine just opened the shop with his wife last year. They always serve nice cakes and cookies at their dinner parties, so I thought I’d give them a try._” Winston - the irritating nobody who seemed to be the designated driver on the team - tried not to sound too smug while identifying the origin of the creamy sponge everyone was fighting over. Out of all the Ghostbusters, Winston was the one that would most likely not be missed if Hul-Rim ended up doing away with him.

Hul-Rim’s eyes widened and his tongue slithered out between his sandpaper-lips in anticipation when Egon was pulled aside by his useless mother for a private conversation. This was what Hul-Rim had been waiting for! All he needed was for Egon to be lured in a bit closer - close enough for him to be separated from his male escort and the rest of his entourage. Then Hul-Rim would grab him, drag him back to his cool underground lair, and pound his frustrations into him.

But Mrs. Spengler stopped at the end of the aisle where there was still plenty of light - not more than a few feet from Peter. Much to Hul-Rim’s dismay, Peter was vigilantly watching over Egon and not paying any attention to Ray and Winston’s conversation. Occasionally, his gaze would flicker over to that concealed proton pack and then out into the parking lot where Hul-Rim was lurking. With that kind of paranoid attitude, Peter would not let Egon wander out of range for any reason.

“_What’s this?_” Egon was staring blankly at a piece of paper that his mother was holding out to him.

“_Consider it a wedding present_.” Mrs. Spengler pressed the piece of paper into Egon’s hand and patted him on the cheek. “_I’m proud of you, Egon. Both you and Peter. I’m sure that you’ll have a very happy life together.”_

_“But I can’t accept—.”_

“_Oh yes you can_.” Mrs. Spengler gave Egon a stern look and refused to take back whatever it was that she had given him. “_Because I know that Peter won’t. That man is inflated with pride, but he isn’t rich. And neither are you. After you’re finished disposing of the evil trash that hurt you like this, you can use the money to take a honeymoon somewhere nice. Or, better yet, you can use it to renovate that cold ice box you live in. You’re not going to continue to share a room with Winston and Ray now that you’re married, are you?”_

“_I’d prefer not to_,” Egon said with some discomfort.

_Evil trash?_! That witch dared to speak so disparagingly of Hul-Rim?!

“_Thank you for your very generous gift, Mom_.” Egon kissed his mother on the cheek and pocketed what Hul-Rim now realized was a check. The pathetic humans used checks to pay for things like rent and insurance. Their entire society would probably collapse without those checks and the green bills or silver and copper coins they could be converted into. “_Peter and I are going to remodel the lab. There is adequate space to convert one corner of it into a small bedroom, but it will require us to erect a wall or temporary partition to separate the two spaces. Half of the outer wall will also need to be demolished in order to make a separate entrance for the bedroom.”_

“_Demolished_?” Mrs. Spengler repeated in distaste. “_That sounds dangerous. You’re not going to be the one doing the demolishing, I hope. I don’t want you hurting yourself again.”_

“_No, Mom. Winston and Peter will be doing all the work. Winston has previous experience working in the construction industry and has reassured us that he can handle this project.”_

_“What’re you two gossiping about over here?_” Peter intruded on the conversation, enveloping Egon in a secure hug from behind.

“_Just wishing my son all the best,_” Mrs. Spengler said casually. “_And to you as well, Peter. You take good care of him, do you hear?”_

“_Mom_!” Egon groaned with disapproval.

“_I won’t let him out of my sight_,” Peter promised.

Hul-Rim retreated further into the shadows, shaking with fury. If he could not attack Egon at the ceremony, then he would do so back at the firehouse. He could preemptively infiltrate the Ghostbusters’ base of operations before they returned. That would give him ample time to destroy Egon’s sensors and find a suitable location to lie in wait for his sacrifice.

Giving the dreamy-eyed newlyweds a parting look of hatred, Hul-Rim set off for Ghostbusters Central. He drifted in and out of the shadows, of which there were plenty at this time of night, before finally coming to a stop outside of the Ghostbusters’ place of residence - a hard, abrupt stop.

_{What is this?!!}_

Hul-Rim glared at the old brick firehouse from across the street. He could approach no closer because it was lit up like one giant perverted Christmas tree. There were lights everywhere! And where there weren’t lights there were sensors. Most of the more powerful floodlight beams were cutting through the darkness from a position on the roof, and there were many of them. Even the windows were practically glowing from the abusive lights that they were lit with from the inside. No matter what angle Hul-Rim inspected the firehouse from, he could find not a single shadow anywhere near the building.

_{NO! I will not be thwarted by an inferior being!}_

He _had_ to have Egon Spengler, no matter what the costs!

To add insult to injury, Ecto-1 sailed past him as he was fuming in the hulking shadow of an empty dumpster. It banked right and came to a rolling stop outside the main doors as Janine hopped out to unlock them. Then it sprang forward and into the garage area on the ground floor. Before Janine managed to get the doors shut again, Hul-Rim caught sight of Egon climbing out of the rear of vehicle. The blond was still wearing that nice white tuxedo - the one that Hul-Rim was itching to shred into tiny pieces - and looked very happy and carefree. His expression was not one that ought to be worn by a weak creature being hunted and that annoyed Hul-Rim quite severely. What made it even worse was when Peter rushed towards Egon from behind and scooped the blond up and into his arms. Hul-Rim could hear their laughter from the street as Peter carried Egon up the stairs like a drunken fool. The human possessed barely a fraction of the strength of Hul-Rim, who could have picked Egon up by the scruff of his neck - one-handed - and hauled him kicking and screaming to his eventual doom. At this rate, it wouldn’t be long before Peter seduced Egon into giving up what was rightfully Hul-Rim’s.

There was only one thing that Hul-Rim could do to stop it, but first he needed to feed in order to replenish his energy. And to do that, he would have to temporarily leave Egon unattended. But when he returned, he would bludgeon Winston, Ray and Janine to death, before crippling Peter and forcing him to watch as he permanently destroyed Egon Spengler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Hul-Rim translates loosely into _Evil Enemy_ in Sumerian.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning:** For explicit content of a sexual nature in this chapter

At the top of the stair landing, Egon gasped with fright when Peter momentarily teetered backwards. He latched onto Peter’s neck tighter and shut his eyes against the downwards view of the long flight of winding stairs they had just come up.

“I wouldn’t even dream of dropping you,” Peter promised as he regained his balance and moved away from the stairs. “Think you can get the doorknob?”

“You could just put me down,” Egon mildly suggested.

“Nope. Not until we’re inside the lab.”

“Peter, it isn’t necessary to follow every wedding tradition so fanatically.” But Egon couldn’t help smiling because all the attention made him feel special, regardless of how silly Peter’s actions were.

“It’s not that,” Peter grunted. “I’ve gotta put you down on a chair or something. If I bend down to put you on the floor, I’m gonna throw out my back.”

Upon hearing that, Egon couldn’t help but laugh. “Please don’t end up in the emergency room on my account.” As soon as they were close enough to the lab door, Egon reached out with his right hand to grab the doorknob. The sudden shift in weight almost had them careening into the closed double doors. “I’ve got it,” he declared after he’d opened the door.

“Awesome!” Peter hoisted Egon up higher to secure his grip, raised one leg, and kicked open the door. Although he had probably meant for it to be a gentle nudge, he ended up striking the door a little too enthusiastically, which resulted in it whacking against the inner wall.

“HEY!” Winston shouted up from the bottom of the stairs. “Cool it up there! We’ve already got one door that needs repairing!”

“Sorry!” Peter replied in a raised voice.

“Those two are acting like a couple of clowns,” Winston could be heard muttering as he descended the stairs again.

“Aww, give them a break, Winston. It’s their wedding night,” Ray said in a pacifying voice.

“They ought to be spending their honeymoon somewhere tropical, not here in this dump,” Janine added her own two cents’ worth before their conversation became hushed.

Peter rushed into the lab and crashed onto his knees on the mattress that had been placed in the far corner. Then he gently lowered Egon onto it. “Safe!” He said cheerfully, before returning to the door to close it.

It was at that moment, feeling the familiar worn comfort of Peter’s mattress beneath him and seeing all the candles surrounding it, that Egon began to panic. This was what he had always wanted but never allowed himself to actually visualize having. It was more than he could have hoped for. Not only was he married to Peter, but they were about to consummate their love in a very real and physical manner. While earlier on Egon had been anticipating this very moment, now that it had finally arrived he found that his hands were trembling and his heart was filled with terror.

What if he discovered that he wasn’t capable of experiencing that level of intimacy? What if he did something wrong? What if it hurt? Egon was knowledgeable enough about sexual intercourse between two men to know what went where and why, but he had never formally considered the risks involved in participating in such an act. There was also the possibility that everything would proceed smoothly but without enjoyment on Egon’s part. Not everyone found sexual interaction pleasurable. That’s why a growing percentage of the population now identified as asexual. What if Egon were one of those people? Peter would be so disappointed - no, _devastated_.

“Whatever it is that you’re thinking, stop thinking it,” Peter said firmly. He was going after the candles, one at a time, lighting them with a match. He only got to three candles before the match burned down far enough to singe his fingernail. Yelping, he shook the match out and lit another one. “Do you know why candles are romantic?” He asked conversationally.

“No, I confess that I do not.” Leaving a cluster of lit candles near a mattress seemed like more of a fire hazard than anything else. Egon looked up sharply as the alluring scent of lavender wafted over from those glowing candles. He had to admit that it was a rather pleasant aroma, and he really did like lavender. But he didn’t know the first thing about what was romantic or how to manipulate the mood or atmosphere to make it so. Perhaps if he had made the effort to sit down and watch a few romance movies with Peter and the others he might have been able to understand the concept better. Unfortunately, the whole idea of romance made him feel uncomfortable, especially the idea of sitting beside Peter during one of those steamy love scenes.

“Well, for one thing they help to set the mood. And, for another...” Peter paused to light the last candle. “The scent of lavender specifically has been proven to increase arousal in men while also helping to relax them.”

“Oh, well... at least it’s scientific.” Egon found himself blushing and feeling awfully warm inside. He absently began to wonder when Peter had become so confident. The brunette could talk about any topic without shame or embarrassment. And he did so with his usual smooth casualness. Just hearing the word ‘arousal’ was unsettling for Egon. He didn’t think that he would feel comfortable discussing the subject out loud.

Having illuminated that corner of the room with the candles, Peter lowered the lighting in that area. They only needed to eliminate all the shadows. It didn’t matter how they did it or what they did it with so long as no shadows were left when they were done. The entire firehouse was glowing or glittering with one light source or another. They had even resorted to stringing Christmas lights through one of the air ducts after running out of snake lights. The firehouse was now as safe as it was going to get.

Egon glanced to the side of the mattress where Peter had thoughtfully placed some snacks earlier on. There were crackers, cookies, potato chips and an assortment of dried fruits. Aside from the energy replacement carbs that Peter had stocked the lab with, there were also two bottles of water and some candies. At the back of the pile, there stood a grey and yellow can with a black cap. At first glance, it looked like an aerosol spray, but upon closer inspection Egon was embarrassed to see that it read _anal silicone lubricant with jojoba_. Peter was indeed fully prepared for their first night together.

“All done.” Peter kicked off his shoes and eased himself down onto the mattress. “This kind of reminds me of that time we went camping together.” He reached for Egon’s nicely polished white shoes next, undoing the laces before pulling them off. “Although the ground was nowhere near this soft, it’s still really weird losing the height advantage of a bed frame.”

“I didn’t particularly enjoy that camping trip,” Egon reminded him.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have expected you to. You’re pretty much hopeless in the wilderness, at least without your inventions.” Next, Peter placed his hands on Egon’s bow tie.

Now becoming even more nervous, Egon swallowed hard and attempted to keep up with the conversation. “As I recall, you weren’t able to do without your modern conveniences either.”

“What? You mean the portable stereo? Everyone needs music, Egon. Even you.”

That was true. Egon couldn’t imagine living a life deprived of his wonderful opera performances or the classical music stored on his computer’s hard drive. When Peter loosened the bow tie and then removed it, Egon found his mouth was dry and breathing normally had become awfully difficult.

Gazing at Egon intensely, Peter undid the top two buttons of Egon’s shirt and then just sat back to observe him. “I’m gonna tell you two very important things now, Egon, because I don’t want to ruin the mood by having to say them when we’re in the middle of things. First of all, we’re going to take this as slowly as possible. Nothing is gonna happen that you don’t want to happen. If you tell me to stop, I’m gonna stop.” He paused to let his words sink in. Then, following Egon’s line of sight, he moved onto his second concern. “Second - and I’m just guessing this is one of the reasons why you’re as white as a sheet - making love is a pleasurable act.” Grabbing hold of the grey and yellow can, Peter held it up for Egon to inspect. “Yeah, it’s a sexual lubricant for men, but it’s also a muscle relaxant. You may feel a bit of discomfort because it’ll be your first time, but I’m not gonna hurt you.” Peter placed the can back down and took hold of Egon’s hands. “If you trust me, I promise that you’ll enjoy what we’re gonna do. If you don’t trust me...” He gave Egon a bit of a sad smile before continuing. “Well, then we can’t do this. And I would completely understand if you weren’t able to, especially after what was done to you.”

Egon forced himself to look away from the lubricant in order to make eye contact with Peter. He had never done any research on sexual lubricants so he was quite surprised to hear that they also served the purpose of relaxing muscles. Hearing that made him feel a little less afraid, but not entirely. He still wasn’t sure what to expect in terms of sensation or how his body would react to that kind of stimulation. “I trust you,” he said truthfully to Peter. Lowering his gaze again, he shamefully added, “But I’m still a little scared.”

Instead of making one of his customary sarcastic observations, Peter moved closer to wrap his arms around Egon. “There’s nothing to be scared of. I’ll be really gentle.” He tenderly kissed Egon’s cheek and thenbegan to unbutton Egon’s white tuxedo jacket.

Egon had thought that making Peter aware of his fear would slow down the pace, not speed it up. He grew even more tense and nervous when the jacket was pushed off of his shoulders and removed, one arm at a time. When Peter’s hands crept over his shoulders, Egon tensed up pretty badly. The touch brought back horrible memories of that monster’s tendrils slithering around his wrists and into his mouth, restraining him against his will and forcing him to—.

“Has anyone ever given you a massage before?” Peter abruptly asked as his fingers kneaded into Egon’s unbelievably tight shoulder muscles, while avoiding anywhere Egon was injured. His tone implied that he knew exactly what Egon was thinking and wanted to kill those images immediately. “Egon?”

“I don’t... think so... no.” Egon replied distractedly.

“So that’s a no?” Peter pulled Egon back against him and pressed his fingers into the base of Egon’s neck.

An unexpected jolt of warmth spread up Egon’s neck from where Peter was massaging him. A tingling sensation followed it, and then more warmth and a decrease in tension and pain. Egon was still in pain after having been thrown up against a wall, wrestled onto the floor, and trussed up with those tendrils. But the feeling of Peter’s fingertips slowly pushing into his muscles in tiny circles lessened the pain and ignited that area with pleasure. “Peter... where did you learn to do this?” Egon asked in amazement. It was almost like magic. Wherever Peter touched him, a delightful spark of sensation followed. If Peter prolonged the contact, then the sensation increased in intensity and duration. Considering how stiff and uptight Egon had been the past few days, having his nerve endings manipulated in such a way felt absolutely wonderful.

“In college, after football practice.” Peter pressed a kiss to the back of Egon’s neck before continuing with the massage. “I pulled a muscle in my shoulder after a game and needed to get massage therapy for a month. Sometimes the massage felt so good that I didn’t want it to end. So I started to look up ways of giving myself a massage. I learned a heck of a lot about muscles and deep tissue massages off the Internet. There are certain pressure points in the body that help to relieve pain in other areas. Like _this_ area,” he pressed the juncture of Egon’s neck and shoulder more firmly to emphasize his point, which caused Egon to gasp at how astonishingly good it felt. “Damn, you’re tense,” Peter commented. He massaged Egon’s neck and shoulders for another few minutes, in which time Egon found himself leaning backwards to allow more access to everywhere that could benefit from Peter’s magical touch. Peter’s hands slid lower and over Egon’s shoulders, the palms of his hands pushing against Egon’s muscles. Gradually, Peter’s fingers began to wander downwards, tracing over Egon’s collarbone and inching inside his undershirt.

On some detached level, Egon realized that the massage was changing into something else, but it still felt good to be touched by Peter so he did nothing to stop it. He leaned back with his head resting against Peter’s shoulder, his eyes closed and his brain shut off to everything except for the anticipation of where he would be touched next. There was a whisper of movement in front of him, followed by a bit of a breeze. By the time Egon figured out that Peter was unbuttoning his shirt, Peter was already sweeping his other hand lower. Egon began to breathe quicker when Peter’s palm brushed over his left pectoral muscle. Then, curving around it, Peter deliberately rubbed his thumb over Egon’s left nipple. Egon whimpered and jerked away from the touch, not sure what to make of the sensation. But Peter merely repositioned his hand so that two of his fingers were now stroking over that nipple.

“_Ahhh_,” Egon cried out softly, self-consciously muting his reaction by burying his face into Peter’s tuxedo jacket.

“You’re awfully sensitive,” Peter whispered by Egon’s ear, before drawing the tip of his tongue over the curve of it. “There’s no need to be shy. This lab has thick walls and doors.” As if to prove his point, Peter kissed his way down Egon’s neck, stopped at a spot that made Egon shiver, and then began to suck on the skin there.

“_Peter_!” Egon moaned, startling himself, and squirmed in Peter’s embrace as his nipple was pinched and rubbed more insistently. He had never before in his life felt so overwhelmed by sensation. Everything that Peter was doing was alien to him but it felt phenomenally good.

Peter released Egon’s skin with a wet sound and pulled Egon’s shirt off. Next, he lifted up the hem of Egon’s undershirt and coaxed that off as well. “Hang on,” he said huskily. He briefly moved away from Egon so that he could remove his own jacket and shirt, and then pulled Egon back against his bare chest. “Are you okay?”

Gazing down at the fingers that were itching to get back to touching him, Egon could only nod. His throat was dry, his cheeks darkened with heat, and his nipple taut and aching to be touched again. At his back, Egon could feel Peter’s muscular chest and strong arms. Peter was also hot and slightly sweaty, which confused Egon because the room was a bit on the chilly side.

“Say it, Egon.” Peter made no attempt to touch him again. “I need to know for sure.”

“I’m okay,” Egon said breathlessly. “It’s just a little... _intense_.”

“Sweetheart, I haven’t even begun to show you intense,” Peter chuckled. Having said that, his fingers returned to pleasuring Egon’s nipple. Using his free hand, he stroked it over the side of Egon’s face. “Are you gonna make me twist my neck around to get at you, or are you gonna come here for a kiss?”

Egon didn’t need to be asked twice. He shifted around, preparing himself for the kiss, but was nearly knocked backwards when Peter lunged at him. There was no building up to it or playful experimentation. Peter simply grasped him by the back of his neck to hold him still and kissed him urgently. No sooner had Peter’s tongue demanded access to Egon’s mouth, than his fingers returned to manipulating Egon’s nipple. Egon felt like he was on fire. Peter’s tongue wasn’t just exploring his mouth, it was dominating him - _Peter_ was dominating him. The fingers on his chest swept over to his right nipple and began to give it the same treatment his left had received, rubbing and lightly pinching it. And Peter’s other hand buried itself in Egon’s thick blond hair, grasping him loosely by it. If Egon didn’t trust Peter completely, then the passionate power Peter was exerting over him would end up being misinterpreted as aggression, which would add to the already unbearable amount of trauma that Egon was dealing with.

“Still okay?” Peter asked in a low seductive tone that Egon had never heard him use before.

“Y—yes.” Without thinking, Egon licked his wet lips, tasting the champagne that Peter had drunk with the cake on his tongue.

Peter’s eyes narrowed upon witnessing that action. He leaned in close again and kissed Egon’s lips. Then he dipped his tongue into Egon’s mouth, briefly teasing him, before kissing him harder than before.

This time Egon made no attempt to stop himself from moaning as he wrapped both arms around Peter’s neck and pulled him in closer to deepen the kiss. Peter was solid and warm, and Egon liked being held so tightly in his arms. Suddenly, the room tilted as Egon felt himself being lowered to the mattress, on his back. He squeezed Peter’s neck tighter with his arms at the loss of control, desperately trying not to panic and ruin the mood. In response, Peter’s kiss became gentle again, his tongue sliding against Egon’s own reassuringly. Peter paused for a moment, holding Egon in place with one arm while he patted down the mattress for something. Then a soft pillow was wedged between the mattress and Egon’s lower back, providing cushioning for the area that was still sore. Egon was lowered onto a second pillow with his longish hair being spread out over it.

Once Egon was laid out on the mattress, Peter pulled away and took a long moment to look him over. “You’re so beautiful, Egon,” he murmured, which caused Egon to blush harder. Peter’s hand stroked over Egon’s cheek, his emerald green eyes dark with desire. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“I want you, too, Peter,” Egon pleaded, shocking himself with that unexpected admission. He really did want Peter - the man whom he had fallen in love with. His _husband_ and soulmate.

Peter smiled and moved in closer, his hand sliding down over Egon’s jaw. “You’ve made me a very happy man today, Egon.” His hand travelled lower, brushing against the side of Egon’s neck and then over Egon’s chest. One of Peter’s fingers was harder and cooler than the rest due to the wedding band that he now wore on his ring finger. “You belong to me now, Egon. I won’t let anything hurt you ever again,” he vowed.

“I love you, Peter,” Egon said emotionally with tears in his eyes. “I’ve only ever wanted to be with you.”

Smoothing his hand over the flat plane of Egon’s abdomen, Peter gazed down at Egon with unreserved tenderness. “I love you with all my heart, Egon.” He held Egon’s gaze as he unfastened Egon’s trousers and carefully pulled them down and off without resistance. When Egon began to shiver, Peter stroked his bare legs to calm him down again. Then, very slowly, Peter pushed his hand into the waistband of Egon’s boxers, carefully lowered them, and pressed his palm against Egon’s growing erection.

Egon’s eyelids flew open and he made a startled sound, which resulted in Peter ending the kiss to begin whispering in his ear. “Take a deep breath and think about it, Egon. Does it feel good when I touch you here?” Peter stroked his hand down between Egon’s thighs and then back up again to barely brush against his cock.

“Yes.” That much Egon was sure of. Although it was more than he was used to feeling, Egon was certain that he liked Peter touching him there. He inhaled sharply and grasped Peter’s wrist when the pleasure escalated a little too quickly.

“I thought that we might have the opposite problem,” Peter said with an amused smile.

“I’m afraid that I’m not sure what you’re referring to.” Egon stiffened and fought to keep his hips still when Peter enclosed him in his fist. “_Oh my—_!” He would have bitten his bottom lip had Peter not prevented him from doing so with the two fingers that he pushed into Egon’s mouth.

“I was worried that you would be too nervous to react.” Very slowly, Peter began to stroke Egon. “But you’re so sensitive that even the slightest touch turns you on.” His thumb traced along the smooth head of Egon’s cock, which had become moist with Egon’s arousal. Peter winced a little but didn’t withdraw his fingers when Egon moaned and bit him. “You’re just full of surprises, Egon,” he lightly teased.

Not knowing what was expected of him, Egon could only lie there and struggle to maintain his composure as the pleasure began to build in an area that he himself had never touched with sexual intentions. But before he lost control, Peter released him and caressed his thighs soothingly. “That’s it?” Egon asked breathlessly as he watched Peter shift lower.

“What kind of husband would I be if I left you lying there like that?” Peter said with mock indignation. “No, that’s not it.” Then, bending down close to Egon, Peter pressed a kiss to his nipple. The sudden contact caused Egon to suck air through his teeth and push up off of the mattress. Peter flicked the tip of his tongue over that nipple and gently sucked it a bit before moving onto the other one.

Seeing Peter’s handsome face flushed with passion like that stirred something inside of Egon. He was proud to have such a brave and loving man as his husband. He knew that Peter would do anything for him. Peter was devoted to him completely, even to the task of pleasuring him. Egon grasped Peter’s hand tightly when the tongue was replaced by teeth. Small sounds of delight escaped him every time he felt those teeth graze his swollen nipple. Then the tongue returned to licking him before trailing off of his wet, tingling nipple to let it recover.

“Peter,” Egon moaned in protest. “Why are you stopping?”

“There are more parts of your body that need attention.” Peter kissed his way down to Egon’s abdomen, and then down the inside of his right thigh.

Was Peter going to kiss him _there_? Egon didn’t think he would be able to withstand the feeling of Peter’s lips or tongue on his already overstimulated manhood. Egon was confused when Peter disappeared completely from view. The next thing Egon knew, his legs were being lifted up and pushed towards his chest, and then Peter’s hot breath was ghosting over his buttocks. Why was Peter—?

All rational thought left Egon’s brain as Peter’s talented tongue gently traced the tight opening to Egon’s body. Egon strained against the arms holding his legs still, gasping frantically when that wet tongue pressed against the seemingly unyielding ring of muscle there. He didn’t even realize that he was clenching his muscles tighter until Peter murmured against his skin, “Egon, relax.” Peter returned to softly licking him, which in turn caused Egon to fight the sensations even more. How could something like that feel so good? If Peter didn’t stop soon, Egon worried that he would lose control and start to make embarrassing noises that would no doubt be heard downstairs —.

“_Ohhh_,” Egon moaned in desperation when Peter’s tongue demanded access to his untouched passage. He clutched at the bed sheets and squirmed, instinctively spreading his legs wider to invite more of that contact. There was a sound of something being opened, which Egon ignored, and then something firmer began to explore that area of his body along with the tongue. It was cool and slick, and Egon had no time to process the information before Peter was easing one finger into him. When Egon tensed up, Peter’s other hand slid over his abdomen to rest reassuringly on his belly. Slowly, Peter’s finger pushed deep inside Egon, his descent aided by the lubricant and his patient nature. As Egon had feared, the sensation was at first obtrusive and uncomfortable. Having something inserted into such a sensitive area of his body didn’t seem like something he could picture himself enjoying. At least that’s what he thought until Peter’s finger sank in deep enough to stroke his prostrate. Egon nearly cried out the pleasure was so great, and his inner muscles instinctively tightened on that finger, which only served to heighten the euphoria. In response, Peter pulled his finger halfway out and then pushed it in again, curling it into that same spot to coax a low moan out of Egon.

“That’s much better,” Peter praised as he began to kiss along the inside of Egon’s quivering thighs. “It feels good, doesn’t it?” His finger glided in deeper again to prove his point.

“It feels _fantastic_,” Egon breathlessly agreed. When Peter withdrew his finger, Egon made a sound of disappointment. But the finger soon returned slippery than before, and then it was joined by a second finger. The stretch was a bit painful and caused Egon to wince, but Peter took his time in acclimating Egon to the thicker width.

“I’ve gotta be honest, Egon. Seeing you like this is making it really hard for me to remain in control,” Peter groaned. While his fingers inched their way in deeper, Peter gave Egon’s thigh one last kiss before flopping beside him on the mattress. He kept his fingers where they were, providing Egon with the most incredible pleasure and successfully nullifying any brain cells that might have still been operating. “Give me your hand.”

Too far detached from reality to question why, Egon placed his hand in Peter’s. Peter grasped Egon by the wrist and guided that hand to his chest. The thought of actually touching Peter frightened Egon just as much as the idea of being penetrated by him. It wasn’t that he didn’t have the desire to do so, because he desperately longed to run his hands over his husband’s perfect masculine body. But he felt too timid and unsure of himself. And he wasn’t sure how Peter would like to be touched.

“Less thinking, Egon. More touching,” Peter lightly scolded him.

When Egon placed his hand on Peter’s solid chest, Peter’s fingers slowed inside him. As the palm of Egon’s hand trailed over Peter’s body, the fingers returned to providing Egon with delicious stimulation. Egon shifted over a bit to stroke his hand over Peter’s shoulder, down over his hard bicep and then back to his torso where he marvelled at his husband’s well defined abdominal muscles. At the same time, he hungrily pushed down onto the exploring fingers, wanting to feel more of the delightful friction they were providing him with.

“Hang on.” Peter temporarily released Egon’s wrist so that he could unfasten his pants. He then pushed them down, along with his boxers, before kicking them off.

All Egon could do was stare once Peter was completely naked before him. Peter was incredible in every way. The brunette apparently didn’t slack off when he worked out, nor did he neglect the areas of his body that he didn’t usually put on display. Every inch of Peter was either completely toned or slightly muscular. He was like a perfectly sculpted god, all the way down to his very impressive manhood. Although Egon was in the habit of surreptitiously admiring Peter whenever the brunette was traipsing around the firehouse with nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips, he had never managed to catch a glimpse of that particular area. And it was a good thing he hadn’t. Acknowledging Peter as a sexual creature, while not being able to be with him, would have destroyed their friendship and working relationship.

“What’re you thinking about?” Peter murmured as his fingers leisurely slid deeper into Egon.

“I’m not.” Egon closed his eyes and concentrated on how nice it felt to have those fingers inside him.

“You’re always thinking.” Peter reclaimed Egon’s wrist and pushed that hand down between his legs. “What do you think about _this_?” He asked impishly.

Egon stiffened as his fingers were coaxed into wrapping around Peter’s thick cock. He hadn’t been expecting to touch Peter there so it came as a bit of a shock at first. “You’re already fully erect,” he blurted out. He hadn’t meant to voice that very unromantic observation, but discovering Peter in that state made him very nervous. Aside from the fact that Egon had never imagined himself touching Peter in such an intimate fashion, he was also worried about how quickly his husband had reached his maximum state of arousal. That meant that the foreplay was almost over.

“Yeah,” Peter groaned when Egon tentatively stroked him. “I’m not even gonna bother correcting what you just said. It’s my own fault for marrying a genius.”

“I’d hardly call myself a genius,” Egon said modestly as he slid his hand down Peter’s length. He wanted to return the pleasure that Peter was giving him, and stroking Peter in this manner appeared to be doing just that so Egon continued.

“Oh, you’re a genius, alright,” Peter insisted. “A really _tight_ one at that.” His fingers scissored apart inside of Egon, the stretch gradually becoming less uncomfortable. When Egon squeezed a little too enthusiastically, Peter pressed his mouth against Egon’s shoulder and moaned. Slowly, he withdrew his fingers from Egon and reached for the can of lube again. “Are you ready?” He asked in a tone that was mixed with desire and a good deal of caution.

Was Egon ready for _that?_ Not entirely. There was very little he could do to mentally prepare himself for what they were about to do. But Peter had already made the physical aspect of it more bearable, and Egon really did want to experience the entire act of lovemaking with him... “Yes,” Egon found himself saying. He trusted Peter with his life and his body. If the sensations turned out to be too much for him, then Peter would know what to do about it. This was one time when Egon no longer wished to remain in control.

“Good,” Peter praised as he kissed Egon on the lips. “Keep doing what you’re doing...”

Egon was a bit surprised when Peter began to unabashedly stroke himself. When Egon’s hand slid over Peter’s swollen flesh, he felt the slippery glide of lube coating him. After a few more strokes, Peter was liberally covered in a glistening sheen that felt warm to the touch.

“Okay, now lie back.” Peter removed Egon’s hand from his fully engorged cock and took over. He gave himself two long firms strokes that seemed to make him even harder.

Egon began to breathe quicker and shallower when Peter crouched between his legs. And his heart started to beat frantically as his legs were positioned on either side of Peter’s hips. He tried to glance down to see what Peter was up to, but it wasn’t so easy to do at that angle. The only thing he could see was that Peter was still loosely grasping himself and his expression was one of sheer concentration. Then, Peter leaned forward and down, and Egon felt a very substantial pressure against the ring of muscles that had allowed Peter’s fingers entry.

“You’re doing good, Egon,” Peter said huskily, his voice and his words preventing Egon from panicking. He gently nudged Egon’s thighs, getting him to spread his legs wider. “Just keep breathing. Slowly... That’s it.” The pressure returned, this time more insistent than before, and with one steady push, the rounded head of Peter’s cock breached Egon’s opening.

Egon gasped and then swallowed hard, forgetting to breathe as Peter pressed deeper into him. The stretch was unbelievable, as was the feeling of fullness.

“Egon, look at me.” Peter grasped Egon’s left hand and squeezed it, his thumb rubbing over the engagement ring and wedding band. “Egon?”

Egon gazed up at Peter. His whole body felt feverish and sensitive, especially deep inside where Peter was inching his way towards. “It’s too much,” Egon whimpered. He wasn’t even sure if what he was feeling was pleasure or pain anymore.

“Just a little more.” Peter grunted as he eased himself in as deep as he could go.

The cry that escaped Egon startled him, as did the uncontrollable muscle spasm that had him clenching tighter around Peter. _This_ was why everyone kept insisting that there was nothing more physically enjoyable than sex. This feeling - this immeasurable sensation of pleasure - was something that Egon could not describe with intelligible words. It was the best feeling he had ever experienced in his life. Nothing else could come close to the immense sensation of euphoria that being joined so completely with Peter gave him. “_Peter_,” Egon moaned, cherishing the sensation of having Peter inside of him.

Peter gave Egon a smoldering look before covering Egon’s body with his own. He lay down on top of Egon, his heavier body weight pinning Egon to the mattress, and kissed him passionately. But he did not stop what he was doing elsewhere. He began to slowly withdraw from Egon, the pulling motion causing a friction that was almost impossible to bear. Impossible to withstand without causing Egon to moan uncontrollably and beg for more. And more was exactly what Peter gave Egon. After pulling out halfway, Peter thrust back in, which ignited that spot that Egon had lost all control to.

“You’re _mine_ now,” Peter groaned as he ground into Egon a little more forcefully. He muffled Egon’s next cry with another kiss, his fingers grasping Egon by his hair to hold him still.

A small part of Egon realized exactly what Peter meant by that declaration, but he was too lost in ecstasy to give it much thought. The fact that he was no longer a virgin and therefore not an appealing target for that demon was of course significant. But it could not be compared to the feeling of Egon giving himself completely to the one and only love of his life. That was all that mattered. He would be with Peter forever now. Nothing could come between them.

“_Egon_!” Peter embraced Egon in an almost painful grip as he began to thrust into him shorter and harder.

Egon gasped soundlessly as a particularly hard thrust caused his belly to tighten and his essence to spill between them. Peter’s hand closed around him, aiding his release. And then, a moment later, Egon heard Peter make an almost wild animal sound by his ear as he gave one last savage thrust. All at once, Egon felt hot inside - hot and wet. He whimpered and ground down onto Peter’s cock, not wanting the sensations to end. Peter’s hips continued to twitch as he filled Egon with his hot liquid essence. Peter’s orgasm seemed endless, whereas Egon’s had nearly exhausted him.

“_Sooo good_,” Peter panted. He slowly withdrew from Egon, leaving him lying there in a delirious state of satisfaction.

“That was... _phenomenal_,” Egon sighed contentedly.

“It sure was.” Peter flopped down beside Egon and pulled him into a possessive embrace.

Egon pressed closer to Peter and gingerly repositioned his legs. He was a bit sore and felt very wet and sticky inside from both the lube and Peter’s semen. It still felt wonderful knowing that he now belonged to Peter in every way humanly possible, but he longed for a nice hot bath, or at least a damp washcloth. “Peter?” Egon found that he could barely get his voice to work he was so exhausted. “Do you think we could take a quick shower before we ... uh... fall asleep?”

Peter sympathetically caressed Egon’s buttocks with the palm of his hand. “You know why we can’t.”

Yes, Egon was aware of the symbolic statement they were making by allowing Peter’s semen to cool inside him. According to much of the literature on demons and sacrifices, the presence of Peter’s essence inside of him would ward off the demon during the night. They needed to rest soundly so that they would have the energy to battle the demon. If it had the audacity to try and attack them in their own home again, while their new alarm system was active and ablaze with lights, then it would find Egon a sullied sacrifice. It would not risk attacking them on uneven grounds when there was no longer anything worth gaining by doing so.

“You’re going to be hearing this a lot from now on, Egon, but I love you.” Peter kissed Egon one last time, and then closed his fingers on the arm of Egon’s glasses. “I’ll be here the entire time,” he promised when Egon grew nervous at the lost of his sight. “And your glasses will be right beside you if you need them.” Peter placed them beside Egon’s pillow and then snuggled against him warmly.

“Thank you, Peter.” Egon closed his eyes and rested his head against Peter’s shoulder. “I love you, too.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long gap between chapters, but real life has been very difficult of late and finding the time - or energy - to write hasn’t been easy. Having said that, this chapter has taken on a life of its own and is more than three times as long as any of the previous ones so I am breaking it into 3 parts. The second part still has a bit to go before it is finished but it should be posted soon after this one.

_Am I getting old?_

Peter gazed up at the laboratory ceiling, his mind dulled by a blissful haze. He had drifted off to sleep in a similar state, feeling pleasantly happy and satiated while at the same time quite drained and overwhelmed. This was the first time that a sexual act had left him feeling so raw and exposed, as well as depleted of the energy he required to vacate the crime scene. Because that was how Peter had begun to view casual sex, as a crime punishable by emotional and psychological damage for years to come. He rarely spent the night with the people whom he slept with, and if he did, he always ended up regretting it. But this time was different. There was nothing casual about what Peter had done with Egon on their wedding night. Nor was there any desire to abandon Egon to an empty bed. In fact, it was the exact opposite. Nothing short of an impending disaster of biblical proportions could get Peter to let go of his beloved Egon.

At the sound of a soft murmur against his chest, Peter’s introspective expression turned into a wide grin. Admiring the sleeping beauty resting peacefully in his embrace, Peter unconsciously held his breath and forgot to swallow. His senses were so fine-tuned to Egon that all he could see was that luscious platinum blond hair and that soft, smooth skin. Egon smelled good and would no doubt taste just as wonderful as he had last night, when Peter had pleasured him with his lips and tongue. In fact, Peter wouldn’t have minded savoring the blond once more before breakfast. Just thinking about opening Egon up on his fingers again or thrusting deep inside him resulted in a surge of blood down below, which made Peter feel really _good_.

_Nope. Nothing wrong with the Venkman stamina._

Age had nothing to do with the heavy feeling in Peter’s limbs and heart. Not that Peter was anywhere near an age where he had to worry anyway. If he were to self-analyze himself, he would have to admit that this was the first time that he had ever had sex with - correction, made love to - someone whom he shared a legitimate emotional connection with. It was also the first time that Peter had put someone else’s needs above his own. Last night had not been about instant gratification but something much more profound. His main goal had been to make Egon’s first time memorable, while being careful not to do anything that might frighten or add to the blond’s psychological trauma. Peter had been extremely nervous about taking that one big step over the line that separated friendship from something entirely different. Of course he hadn’t let any of that nervousness seep through into his words or actions because Egon might have misinterpreted it as reluctance. The simple fact of the matter was that Peter had experienced a long, drawn-out moment of uncertainty when faced with the prospect of taking Egon’s virginity. Not because he had doubts about whether he wanted Egon, but because he worried about his own sexual expertise being incompatible with his new husband’s specific needs. Egon had needed to be treated gently and with the utmost patience and understanding - traits that Peter normally did not possess in the bedroom. To think that he - the oh-so-popular and sought after Peter Venkman - had been worried about performance issues on his wedding night...

“How’s that for a laugh, huh, Egon?” Peter breathed by the blond’s ear. “I think that I was just as nervous as you were.” However, once Peter had really gotten into the foreplay, that nervousness had evaporated. He had amazingly discovered that making Egon feel good also made him feel good, which was the reverse of how he usually prioritized things. Before last night he had always put himself first in any relationship - as superficial as his relationships often were. Who would have thought that witnessing another person having an orgasm would be enough to send him over the edge? And that heavy feeling in his heart was not at all unpleasant. It was warm and all-encompassing, like a strong sense of love and belonging. _Love_. Egon loved him. Well and truly adored him. Just as much as Peter loved and cherished Egon. And now they were married.

There was no response from Egon other than a slight curling of those slender fingers on Peter’s chest. If the act of lovemaking had left Peter feeling intoxicated and boneless, it had most likely relieved Egon of whatever strength he had left. The physicist needed lots of rest in order to recuperate. Waking up to Peter settling between his thighs with the hopes of enjoying another heated coupling would deprive him of that rest. _Down boy!_

But he wanted Egon so _badly_!

So this was why honeymooners holed up in a luxurious bedroom suite for a couple of nights after they’d been wed. Peter had never wanted anyone so desperately before. To think that Egon was now his to do with as he pleased. The firehouse would never be the same from this day forth. Rules would need to be drafted up and boundaries put in place. They would need lots of privacy and an en-suite bathroom. Definitely an en-suite bathroom. That was non-negotiable. And the lab may have thick doors and walls but sound still traveled through whatever gaps there were. If the others had not promised to stay downstairs until morning, Peter was pretty sure that they would have heard Egon crying out or Peter shouting Egon’s name as his senses exploded with ecstasy. Maybe he could talk Winston into some soundproof walls and extra weather stripping to line the top and bottom of the soon-to-be-installed bedroom door.

Beginning to stroke his fingers through Egon’s thick hair, Peter sighed contentedly to himself. It was nice to wake up to a room absent of Ray’s snoring or Winston’s insistent muttering. Peter liked sleep. A lot. When he had nowhere to go and nothing better to do, Peter tended to stay in bed. He actually considered sleep to be much like a recreational activity - he practiced it often and prided himself on how well he performed at it. But occasionally Ray or Winston would interrupt his sleep with their individual noises and leave him in a grumpy mood. Egon was not at all like those two. Egon was quiet and motionless when he slept, unless he was having a nightmare. Perhaps it was because Egon was habitually sleep deprived that he fully utilized his REM cycle by making not a sound to disturb it. If Egon had ever prevented Peter from falling asleep, it was on one of those rare occasions when Peter had given into temptation to watch the blond as he slept. Although Peter considered his voyeuristic tendencies around a slumbering Egon to be more therapeutic than a nuisance.

“I may have lost twenty bucks on you in the beginning, but you were so worth it,” Peter quipped to himself.

“I beg your pardon?” Egon mumbled groggily.

Peter glanced down to find himself confronted by a pair of unfocused blue eyes - such a lovely pure blue that one couldn’t help but admire - and a sleepy expression that was so unlike the typically sharp manner in which Egon observed the world. “There are things that I want to say right now - as well as things that I’d _love_ to do to you - but I’m gonna hold off until you’re at least semi-conscious.” Keeping his hands off of a sleepy Egon was going to strain Peter’s self control to the max.

In response to that comment, Egon blushed and lowered his gaze. That reaction should have chilled Peter’s libido, except that Egon was now skimming his fingers over Peter’s chest. “Are there... _customs_... to be adhered to on the morning after...?” Egon asked awkwardly.

“Huh? Customs?” Peter blinked down at Egon, and then began to laugh to himself. “No, sweetheart, there aren’t any guidelines that we ought to be following on the morning after.” Craning his neck down, Peter planted an affection kiss on... Egon’s flattened mess of a pompadour. “Let’s try that again.” Brushing the hair out of the way, he got Egon’s forehead on the second try. “We’ve already successfully consummated our marriage. What we do from now is up to us.”

Egon grinned happily and stretched his arm over Peter’s chest so that he could return the embrace he was locked in. “To what were you referring when you said that I cost you twenty bucks?”

That question, and the familiar dry teasing tone that accompanied it, caused Peter to sigh in appreciation. Everything had changed between himself and Egon, and yet everything was still the same. They were still best friends and they still understood each other so well. If anything, the sex had increased their ability to communicate, not hindered it. “Way back in the beginning. During our first year of college.”

For a mere second or two, Egon was silent, no doubt contemplating the exact time and place he had cost Peter twenty dollars. Predictably, Egon had no recollection of such an event. “Oddly enough, I cannot recall borrowing that amount of money from you at any time in our history together. If I remember correctly, you were always the one soliciting money from me.” While usually quite clear and focused, Egon sounded like he was pleasantly buzzed, which was funny considering how the physicist hadn’t so much as sipped a beer in his entire existence.

“What can I say, popularity doesn’t come cheap.” Peter stroked his hand over Egon’s hip in a soothing gesture when the blond gave him a look of disapproval. “I only used your money to buy coffee and bagels, I swear. But anyway, the twenty dollars is what led to us meeting and becoming friends.” Now Egon was smiling in a curious way. The story that went along with the twenty-dollar bill in question was somewhat long and not entirely heartwarming. Egon didn’t need to hear that a group of jocks had fought over the right to partner up with him in cognitive science class because they’d been after an easy score and someone to do their assignments for them. Egon had been used and abused enough in life due to his superior intellect and lack of people skills. There was no need to remind him of his previous role as _homework slave_ during his more formative years. “Let’s just say that you were a coveted partner back then. Everyone wanted to work with you. But I found you so attractive and intriguing that I paid for the privilege.” Oh, he had paid alright. It had cost him twenty dollars _per person_ to keep Egon all to himself. Back then conning someone out of five dollars had been quite a feat. In order to come up with the hundred dollars that his five buddies had fleeced him for, Peter had needed to win several games of poker. It had cost Peter twenty bucks just to be dealt into the game, which was the initial investment he had been referring to. For someone who wasn’t particularly good at poker, the odds of winning even the one game were pretty slim. For someone like Peter, who tended to cheat, it had only been a matter of being the last person standing who wasn’t stone cold drunk by the end of the game.

Egon was practically beaming upon hearing that Peter had paid money for the opportunity to work with him. But then a rare mischievous glint entered his eyes, warning Peter that he was about to be contradicted. “That partnership was the first time you conversed with me, but it wasn’t the first time we met.”

“It wasn’t?” Now it was Peter’s turn to listen intently.

“A week earlier, you knocked me down in the corridors in your haste to get to football practice.”

“I did not!” Peter gasped in horror.

“You were sprinting through the corridors, deliberately ignoring the dean’s previous warning not to do so, and you bumped into me as I was exiting quantum mechanics class.”

“Shit! Did I hurt you?” Peter didn’t even stop to ask if the story was true because he could remember several instances in which he had rammed into some poor sucker in the corridors between classes.

“Not at all. You caught me before I could fall, apologized profusely for the run-in, and then rushed off again. You left quite the impression...” Egon trailed off in embarrassment.

It was at that point that Peter’s shark-like personality took over. “And that’s when you started to have a crush on me?” He might have laughed at Egon had the whole cliche scene not been so damn adorable. “You win, Egon, hands down. Your version of that encounter is a hell of a lot more romantic than paying to be in someone’s company.”

_-Rap! Rap! -_

The two knocks on the door were short but firm. Someone had breached the upper floor and was wandering around without permission.

“Peter, we can’t be seen in this state of undress,” Egon declared in a panic. He tried to push away from Peter a bit too quickly and ended up gasping in pain.

Peter pressed Egon back down onto the mattress and secured the blankets around him. “I’ll get it. You stay here.” He hoped that the pained sound Egon had made was due to his injured back and not because he was unbearably sore elsewhere. Peter had been as gentle as possible with the blond, but Egon’s inexperience may have led him to accept Peter a little too enthusiastically, which might have resulted in some residual discomfort.

Stooping down beside the mattress, Peter plucked Egon’s glasses up from where they’d fallen between two melted candle stubs. Thankfully, Peter had had the foresight to put those candles on plates and not place them directly on the floor because he had neglected to blow them out last night. That was the last thing any of them needed, to be raided by the fire department in the middle of the night. How ironic would that be!

After he had righted the glasses on Egon’s cute nose, Peter yanked on his rumpled tuxedo trousers - minus his boxers - and staggered over to the double doors. On his way across the laboratory, he nearly tripped over a stool and brushed up against a row of glass jars - some of which were too large for the shelf they were on and haphazardly sticking out -that had been arranged by alphabetical order according to... what? Peter had no idea. Only Egon knew what was inside the jars, or what strain of fungi occupied the Petri dishes on the shelf below. Last night Peter had been totally focused on making love to his new eternal partner, so he had blindly ignored the organized clutter that was Egon’s laboratory. Although everything seemed to be properly stored and cared for - unlike the mess that made up Peter’s side of the closet in the bedroom - it was still an eyesore to look at. Egon was just as involved with the technical side of science as he was with the organic because there were gadgets-in-progress cropping up in every available space. No wonder Egon often ended up bruised or sporting mild injuries. The entire room was an accident waiting to happen for someone as distracted and klutzy as Egon. Or for Peter, who was careless when it came to lit candles and plugging too many electronic devices into the one outlet.

“All this crap’s gotta go,” Peter muttered to himself. Then, leaning up against the door, he shot off a quick, “Yeah?”, before trying to tug up his zipper. For the price he had paid to rent the tux, the zipper stuck just as bad as the one on his cheap pair of jeans.

“Pete, are you decent?” The doorknob started to turn.

Peter grasped the doorknob firmly with the one hand, still wrestling with the zipper in his other. “Not currently, Winston. I thought you weren’t gonna come up here until eight.”

“I only promised that thinking that you’d be out of the shower by seven-thirty. It’s seven-forty-five and neither of you seem intent on getting outta bed.”

Finally getting the zipper to conceal his valuables, Peter opened the door part of the way, slipped out into the hallway, and closed it again. “Okay, so we might need another thirty or forty minutes of shower time,” he confessed.

For a moment, Winston just stood there staring at him. While Peter had enjoyed the time he had spent with Egon and was fairly well rested, Winston looked like absolute shit. There were bags under his eyes and a big red pressure spot on his chin, probably from where he had been leaning onto his fist to keep his jaw from striking the table if he passed out from exhaustion. He was also still wearing his suit, although it was wrinkled worse than Peter’s tux. “How’s Egon?” Winston asked after the uncomfortable silence had stretched on for longer than was polite.

“Despite the nightmare, I think that he managed to get a fair amount of sleep,” Peter replied automatically.

“That’s not what I’m asking, homeboy. Excuse me for being tactless but we currently don’t have the luxury of minding our manners.”

Under regular circumstances, Peter wouldn’t have dignified Winston’s indecent prying with a response. But the circumstances were far from normal and Winston was one of the reasons why Egon was still safely tucked in bed instead of mortally injured or worse. “This is one marriage that can’t be annulled,” Peter informed his friend in as roundabout a way as possible.

“That’s good,” Winston exhaled in relief. Then, clapping Peter on the shoulder, he gave him a wry grin. “Congrats, m’man! We’re all happy for you.”

“I’m happy for me,” Peter said with complete sincerity. “Maybe now that—.”

“It hasn’t given up.” Winston’s brief display of joy quickly gave way to a grim determination. “It made several attempts on the doors downstairs before taking off to do more damage elsewhere. According to the police chief, there were a couple of attacks before your wedding, and many more since it left here empty-handed last night. It’s no longer toying with its victims either. It’s killing them outright. Egon is still in as much danger now as he was before.”

Taking the news update in stride, Peter kept his temper in check. Nothing good would come from him exploding in anger over the fact that Egon was still the demon’s number one target. While he had married Egon with the hope of removing him from the demon’s list, Peter had ultimately done so because he loved his best friend. He would have eventually worked up the courage to begin dating Egon, which would have led to more intimacy and eventually marriage. The sex could have taken place before or after the wedding - although in Egon’s case afterwards would probably have been preferable - but there was no question in Peter’s mind that their relationship would have evolved in that manner. Having their friendship develop into a romantic partnership and lifelong commitment in a more condensed manner was not something that Peter felt the need to regret. What was done was done. The wedding had been perfect regardless of the atmosphere, and the sex phenomenal - as Egon had so poetically described it - so it wasn’t like they had been forced into doing something that they hadn’t wanted to do. If Peter were to nitpick, the only thing that warranted complaining was the lack of a proper honeymoon. But it was quite common to put that off nowadays due to the economy and conflicting work schedules.

“But that piece of shit can’t drain Egon anymore or invade his mind, right?”

“Ray sounded pretty optimistic about that being the case.”

“Well, that’s one less thing to worry about. Give us thirty minutes or so to freshen up, then we’ll relieve you guys so you can get some rest.”

“Take an hour,” Winston said as he stifled a yawn. “I’m in a generous mood.”

“Thanks, Winston.”

“One hour, Pete,” Winston intoned clearly. “Any longer than that and I can’t guarantee your personal safety where Janine’s concerned.” He was about to head back downstairs when he turned suddenly and gave Peter a stern look. “You remembered to blow out all those ridiculous candles before you turned in for the night, didn’t you?”

“You don’t seriously think that I would do something so irresponsible as to leave a bunch of candles burning beside us while we slept, do you?” Peter retorted.

“Just checking.” And then Winston was gone.

That would be the last time that Peter messed with candles. The next time he would just go out and buy one of those overpriced essential oil dispensers.

Returning to Egon, Peter found the blond stiffly pulling on his tuxedo trousers. “There’s no one else up here, Egon. You don’t have to cover up... everything.” Peter trailed off as Egon pulled on his fancy white shirt and began to do up the buttons, one by one. “Oh-kay... do whatever makes you happy.” With a body like that, it was a shame to cover up anything. On the other hand, it made Peter feel all the more special knowing that he was the only one privileged enough to see Egon in his full glory.

“Winston sounded fatigued,” Egon replied. “Janine and Ray must be also. We should quickly freshen up and relieve them of their shift.”

That sure sounded like the old dependable Egon. If Peter hadn’t been fully aware of the ordeal his new spouse had been through, he might have accepted the charade at face value. But Peter had known Egon for far too long for the blond to be able to fool him. Egon was dreading another confrontation with that sadistic abomination. He had fallen asleep clutching onto Peter in desperation, waking once to a nightmare so awful that he had left fingernail indentations in Peter’s right bicep. The kind of abuse Egon had endured would leave him traumatically scarred for a very long time. Well, Peter was a registered psychologist - out of practice and slightly rusty, but qualified all the same - and he was more than willing to help Egon cope, recover and heal. Unfortunately, Peter could not have Egon going through the recovery process before that demon was destroyed. The slightest tug on any of the threads holding Egon together would result in him unraveling completely, and they couldn’t have the physicist in that condition while his life was in danger. That was why Peter had chosen not to address Egon’s emotional state or ask the blond any upsetting questions.Let Egon concentrate on the positive things in his life for the time being. Peter would deal with the repercussions of leaving the blond in denial of his emotions at a later date.

“What’s this?” Peter asked on their way to the door. Occupying one very large piece of real estate on Egon’s sacred work table was what looked like a sabotaged proton pack. While the main components of the pack appeared to be unchanged, the lethal device itself was not hooked up to a conventional neutrona wand. Instead, there were two hoses - not one - leading from the cyclotron to a pair of... boxing gloves? “Egon?” Peter asked impatiently.

“That’s your new proton pack, Peter,” Egon replied matter-of-factly, as he always did when he was confident of a new invention that he had neglected to formerly introduce to the rest of the team.

“And where am I supposed to use this new proton pack, sweetheart? In a K1 boxing match?” Peter looped an arm around Egon’s waist to pull the physicist back towards the table before he could escape.

“It still requires a few adjustments so I wouldn’t advise you put it on just yet.”

“Rewind, Egon. I don’t want to wear it, I just want you to _explain_ it to me.” This was the genius Peter had married. Peter was used to Egon being light years ahead of everyone else when it came to his thought processes. Egon always needed a gentle reminder to slow down and communicate like a normal human being.

“These gloves,” Egon began as he picked up one of the black matte gloves from the table, “will harness the psychokinetic energy within you and the particle accelerator will amplify it.” The glove made a loud clanging noise when Egon placed it back down onto the table. “Excuse me,” he briefly apologized. “Ray is going to coat the titanium alloy with synthetic fibers that will alleviate any auditory discomfort.”

“Say what?”

Egon gave Peter a confused look, before realizing that he had been speaking in a language that only someone as technical as Ray had any hope of deciphering. “Ray is making a soft exterior that will stop the clanging noise,” Egon said simply.

“Okay, but why do I even need these gloves? You saw what I did to that bastard with my bare hands,” Peter said angrily.

“I suspect that it was not lying when it claimed to have confronted us when its power levels were lower than normal. It will not underestimate us a second time. This proton pack will boost your existing power while keeping you out of physical range of the demon.” Egon flipped the gloves over to reveal what looked like tiny bullet chambers attached between the knuckles. “These gloves will project energy instead of leaving it physically contained within you.”

Peter couldn’t help but stare in awe at the fabulous new weapon that Egon had invented. Of course, Egon would never categorize it as a weapon, but that’s exactly what it was. “You know, Egon, most wives do something artsy like make a scrapbook for their new husband as a wedding present.”

Egon’s cheeks darkened and his full lips pressed into a thin line, before he gave Peter one of his snappy comebacks. “I am neither your wife, nor am I _artsy_. And this is not a wedding present.”

Grinning eagerly at Egon, Peter playfully pulled him into a loose embrace. “That’s right. You already gave me the best wedding present last night,” he said smugly. When Egon’s lips began to quiver as he lost control of his mock frown, Peter moved in to kiss him. “I think that it’s gonna be kind of hard for us to conceal anything from each other now. Especially now that I understand your body - I mean _body language _\- so well.”

“I concur,” Egon murmured softly, before he placed his hands on Peter’s chest and leaned in to return the kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check back in a day or two for Chapter 15! ^_^


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Please read Chapter 14 first!** This chapter is being posted less than a day after Chapter 14 was posted, so please don’t forget to read that chapter before moving onto this one.
> 
> **Warning for NC-17 content!**

They found the bathroom just as Janine had left it the afternoon before, with aerosol cans, cosmetic products, and unidentifiable beauty tools scattered all over the place. There were also newly purchased bottles of salon-grade products lining the bathtub - organic herbal honey and vanilla shampoo, nourishing coconut conditioner, and apple spice body soap. No wonder Egon smelled so good!

“Use that stuff sparingly,” Peter warned when Egon went straight for the Argan oil creamy face cleanser. “It’s gotta last for the next couple of months because Janine went _way_ over budget.”

“Peter, you can’t dictate how much of a hygienic product someone can use,” Egon chided him as he placed his folded glasses neatly on the glass shelf below the medicine cabinet. Then he went ahead and pumped an extra generous portion of the face cleanser into his hands, before leaning over the sink and lathering it onto his face.

“If you come out smelling anything like you did yesterday, feel free to empty the bottle,” Peter jokingly said. Bending down to the bathtub, he put the stopper in and began to fill it with warm water. Peter was more of a shower person, but the spray from the shower was too harsh and would end up aggravating Egon’s injuries. Besides, the blond seemed to prefer baths to showers and enjoyed soaking in a relaxing bubble bath at the end of the day. At least that’s what Peter assumed because Egon tended to linger in the bathroom for twice as long as anyone else and had a secret stash of marshmallow scented bubble bath under the sink.

“How did you—?” Egon blinked at Peter in embarrassment when Peter retrieved the bubble bath and dumped a few capfuls into the running water.

“I wouldn’t be much of a stalker if I didn’t know your bathroom habits,” Peter bragged. “But, just to let you know, you’re not putting that shower cap on in the bath. Bubble bath is sexy, shower caps are not.”

“Then, to be fair, we should also prohibit obnoxious, narcissistic crooning,” Egon countered.

Peter appeared behind Egon as the bespectacled blond was beginning to brush his teeth. He draped one arm possessively over Egon’s shoulders and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Mmm, you _do_ smell good. How about romantic serenading? You’re not gonna outlaw that, are you?” When Egon shook his head in the negative, Peter smirked and helped himself to the toothpaste. “Just wait til after I’ve had my morning coffee. I’ll sing you the sappiest love song that I can think of, at the top of my lungs.”

“That really isn’t necessary,” Egon protested in amusement after rinsing his mouth out.

“Oh, I think it is. What’s this?” Peter paused with the toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. Snatching up the unfamiliar tube of toothpaste, he curiously read the ingredients. “Cocoa bean extract?” He mumbled around a mouthful of toothpaste. “I’m gonna _kill_ Janine! Do you have any idea how much this crap costs?”

“No, I’m afraid I do not. However, you were the one who told Janine to buy the best products for the momentous occasion,” Egon politely reminded him. “Had you specified a price range...”

“No wonder she was so keen on keeping the leftovers,” Peter grumbled. “Well, she can forget that. If anything, you’re gonna keep using this stuff - _sparingly_ \- until it’s all gone and we go back to the regular drugstore discounted brands.”

“That’s the second time you’ve used the word _sparingly_. Perhaps we should have exercised more restraint with the wedding...”

Although Egon said so in a light tone, Peter could tell that he was upset. “Uh uh, no way!” Rinsing his mouth out, and wasting that overpriced toothpaste, Peter pulled Egon into his arms and kissed him soundly. “Our wedding was perfect. I’d much rather fire Janine than give a second thought to how much any of it cost me.”

“You’re not firing Janine, Peter,” Egon warned between kisses. “Had I known that money would be such an issue, I would have insisted on shouldering half the expenses for it.”

Like Egon could have afforded four thousand dollars for that wedding flower display! The most Egon was capable of buying with what he had left in the bank was a couple of potted plants from the home center. All of Egon’s money was tied up in patent applications and everyone knew that. The only person in denial of his financial situation was Egon himself. When deciding whether to splurge on a wedding or to go with the bare minimum of simply signing a marriage license down at City Hall, Peter had needed to ask himself which was more important, Egon’s happiness or a new car. It had taken him all of five seconds to come to the conclusion that he’d rather give Egon a joyous wedding celebration than spend all his savings on that Lexus that he’d had his heart set on.

“Okay, I’m sorry already. I told you that the wedding was on me so I don’t want to argue about it anymore.” He waited until Egon calmed down, and then coaxed him into coming closer. “This is nice,” Peter murmured as he embraced Egon tightly, pacifying him with more kisses. “We’re having our first newlywed’s quarrel. I guess this is where we kiss and make up.” He grinned when Egon began to look a little starry eyed after the fourth kiss. For someone who had no experience with kissing, Egon really seemed to enjoy it. “All better?”

“I suppose so. It was not my intention to quarrel with you, Peter.” But Egon sounded more distracted than convinced of the sincerity of Peter’s apology.

Following Egon’s line of sight, Peter realized that the blond was staring anxiously at the bathtub that was on the verge of overflowing. “Oops! Better get that before it starts raining on Janine’s desk.”

“Actually, I believe that the bathtub is situated above _your_ desk,” Egon corrected him.

That made Peter twist the faucet a lot harder and faster to stop the flow of water. Janine’s desk was expendable, Peter’s was not. Once the potential disaster had been averted, Peter glanced over his shoulder to beckon Egon over, only to discover that the blond remained frozen where he was. It was easy for Peter to see that Egon was anxious and scared about something, but whether it was the bath itself or the prospect of sharing it with his new husband was difficult to determine. After the intimacy they had shared together last night, Peter had expected Egon to naturally come out of his shell. Truth be told, he had been hoping that Egon would start coming onto him, or at least become somewhat flirtatious. But a night of unrestrained passion, regardless of how incredible it had been, could not alter a lifetime of repression and awkwardness. Egon had always been shy and modest when it came to nudity and expressing himself sexually. Even after all they had done together last night, there was still an air of innocence that lingered around the blond. And it was that innocence that Peter had been drawn to in the first place, so he couldn’t fault Egon for it.

Demonstrating that he had the utmost patience, Peter held out his hand to Egon. After a moment’s hesitation, Egon took it and allowed himself to be led over to the bathtub. “Winston gave us a time limit of one hour,” Peter gently informed his nervous spouse. “If you want to go in alone, I can wait outside and take a shower after you’re done.” Although it would greatly pain him to do so.

“I’d prefer it if you stayed,” Egon practically pleaded, suddenly gripping Peter’s hand a lot harder.

So _that_ was the problem! Feeling like an idiot, Peter merely nodded and stood back to undress. Egon was not afraid of getting into the bathtub with Peter. He was afraid of being left alone in the bathroom, and it wasn’t too difficult to see why. Evidence of the demon’s presence was everywhere. There were still areas of shattered tiles near the bathtub, claw marks raked down the side of the wall next to the sink, and the walls and ceiling were full of scorch marks. The shattered tiles were no doubt due to the demon positioning itself firmly against the proton streams or from the impact of Winston’s baseball bat. And the scorch marks were from the proton beams themselves. But the claw marks were a mystery. They were already there when Peter had burst into the bathroom to rescue Egon. The only explanation Peter could think of was that the demon had forced Egon up against the wall and threatened him with those sharp claws. But Peter couldn’t ask Egon about the details of the attack for fear of causing him to relieve it.

Once he was fully nude, Peter climbed into the bath and settled in the warm cocoon of bubbles. His heart began to race when he noticed that Egon was surreptitiously giving him a look of admiration mixed with desire. _Sneaky little imp_, Peter thought to himself. How long had Egon been doing that? It was amazing that Egon had managed to get away with giving him that kind of suggestive look for so long. Then again, considering how Egon kept his thoughts and emotions private, Peter shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Are you coming in or are you just gonna admire the view?” Peter teased.

In response to the invitation, Egon slowly disrobed in his usual orderly fashion. It may as well have been a striptease because the moment he climbed into the bath, Peter felt all the blood rush to his nether regions. He remembered all too clearly how marvellously hot and snug Egon had felt wrapped around him, and the soft moans that Peter had coaxed out of the blond had been enough to shatter all his self control.

“Where am I supposed to...?”

In response to Egon’s unfinished question, Peter pulled the blond down to sit in his lap. The sudden motion caused a large wave of water to slosh over the side of the bathtub, no doubt on its way to flooding Peter’s desk down below. But instead of worrying about the water damage it would cause, Peter sighed at the pleasant sensation of pressing himself up against Egon’s tight, sculpted ass. They had one hour, minus the five or ten minutes they had wasted over by the sink. They could accomplish quite a lot in fifty or so minutes. “Comfortable?” Peter asked suggestively. Peter wanted Egon in the worst way. Why bother concealing his motives? They were married, after all, and Egon had vowed to love him no matter what, horny tendencies included.

For a moment Egon was silent, before he pointed out the obvious, much to Peter’s amusement. “Peter, you have an erection.” Like Peter didn’t already know that and hadn’t positioned Egon right on top of it for the sole purpose of nurturing it.

“You just noticed that, huh?” Peter slid one hand across Egon’s chest, located a nipple and playfully pinched it. “You’re not that observant this morning, Egon. I’ve had this erection since I woke up. It just won’t go away.”

“And the usual solution proved to be ineffective...?”

“What usual solution?” Peter suddenly discovered that his face and ears were awfully hot. Egon couldn’t possibly mean _that_, could he? Pulling Egon back against his chest, Peter carefully studied the expression on that innocent face... only to discover that it wasn’t so innocent anymore. “So, let me get this straight,” Peter began accusingly. “Before me, you hadn’t so much as been kissed, but you had a thing for me jacking off in the bathroom?”

“Jacking off?” Egon repeatedly dumbly.

“Masturbating, Egon. I don’t know how you managed to memorize all the words in the English language while being completely naive to the more commonly used slang.”

“I’d rather not familiarize myself with crude terminology that is deemed unacceptable for use when in polite company.” Egon began to absently stir up a cluster of marshmallow-scented bubbles with his right hand. “As for your penchant for masturbating in the bathroom every other morning, I did not go out of my way to eavesdrop on you doing it. I merely overheard you as I was walking by... not that it would have been difficult to hear at the volume you were going at.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sure that you learned a thing or two about sounds of arousal last night,” Peter said defensively, even though he realized that Egon was not teasing him about it. There was a reason that Egon had brought the subject up. Peter just hadn’t figured out what that reason was yet. “That may have been your first time, and you may have been nervous at losing your virginity, but those soft little moans that you were making were ultra sexy. With a little practice and perhaps some deeper penetration, I’m sure that I can get you to moan loud enough to wake up the neighbors,” he threatened.

“Then you’d prefer it if I were more... vocal in bed?”

Was Egon fishing for advice on how to adequately satisfy Peter? Was that why he had brought up the masturbating? “Am I right in assuming that you’re comparing the noise I make while pleasuring myself to the amount of noise we made together last night?”

“Not directly comparing - no. But I have no frame of reference to compare last night to, Peter. I simply want to make sure that you were as... uh... equally... _stimulated_ as I was.”

“Equally stimulated?” Peter laughed. “Egon, I was so overstimulated last night that I nearly came all over the blankets several times. If you want to know whether you were good or not, well, you were really good. Fantastic even! Probably a million times better than any of the fantasies that I’ve had about you. The last thing I want is for you to start faking orgasms while I’m making love to you.”

“How does a man go about faking an orgasm?” Egon asked in confusion.

“Figure of speech, sweetheart, although it is possible. What I’m trying to say is that I just want you to do what comes naturally and leave the exaggerated moaning to Ray when he discovers another one of his geeky comic books has been cancelled. Okay?”

“Okay,” Egon agreed in relief.

Peter kissed Egon on the cheek and then saturated Egon’s washcloth with that delicious smelling apple spice body soap. Of course the washcloth had to be pink whenever it wasn’t blue, and the same went for Egon’s toothbrush. Those were Egon’s two favorite colors, which made shopping for him a breeze. Blue was a common color so it was easy to find most things in blue. And pink was not at all popular with men, at least not the bright carmine/magenta hues that Egon preferred, so Peter had no problem getting those products on sale. Up until this point, he had restricted himself to buying Egon mundane things like toothbrushes and washcloths. Now that they were married, Peter was free to purchase more intimate presents for his significant other. Things like silk or satin briefs and skimpier sleepwear. And Peter was totally okay with those items being pink. In fact, it would probably be better if they were pink because he couldn’t picture Egon looking all badass in black. It just didn’t suit his conservative personality.

“Please tell me that you didn’t go to sleep worrying about whether I was sufficiently stimulated last night,” Peter pleaded as he began to gently wash Egon’s injured back. When Egon flinched and pulled away, Peter wrapped an arm around him and whispered into his ear. “Remember what I said last night about trust?”

“Sorry, I was just anticipating...”

When Egon trailed off, Peter finished the thought for him. “You were expecting it to hurt. I know. I’ll be really careful so you don’t have to worry. I would never do anything to hurt you.”

“I trust you, Peter. But I can’t control my instincts.”

“That makes the two of us,” Peter joked when Egon shifted and inadvertently pressed in tighter on top of Peter’s erection. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“I had no difficulty falling asleep last night,” Egon replied with some reluctance. He also seemed distracted by Peter’s unavoidable state of arousal. “The worrying began this morning.”

“Do you have any idea what triggered it?” Peter asked conversationally as he slid the soapy washcloth down Egon’s side.

“You claimed that we were not expected to do anything this morning, but your current state would suggest otherwise.”

“You mean to tell me that you’re feeling all insecure because we didn’t do anything this morning?” Peter tried his best not to sound incredulous but ultimately failed. Stopping what he was doing with the washcloth, he lifted Egon off by his narrow hips and made him sit at the opposite end of the bathtub so that they were facing each other. It was crammed as hell with two grown men sharing the one tiny space, but Egon was flexible and Peter didn’t mind bruising up his knees as he leaned over the blond. “Does it look like I’m not in the mood for doing something this morning?” Peter challenged as he gripped the sides of the tub on either side of Egon, his erection prominently on display for those startled blue eyes to appreciate. “For your information, the only thing I’ve been able to think about since waking up is how much I enjoyed taking you last night and how I can’t wait to do it again.” He smirked when Egon blushed upon hearing that. “The only reason I’ve been behaving myself is because I thought you needed time to adjust.” Or because he figured that Egon was still sore, but he left that thought unvoiced. “So, correct me if I’m wrong. Do you need time to process what we did?” Leaning further over Egon, Peter flicked the tip of his tongue along the curve of the blond’s ear, before breathing hotly into it. “Or do you need your sexy husband to make you feel really good this morning?” Taking Egon’s low shaky moan as an answer, Peter stroked one hand over Egon’s knee and down the inside of his thigh. From there, he dragged his fingers down further until he found the tight puckered entrance that he had buried himself inside last night. “Tell me what you want, Egon.”

“Your fingers...,” Egon gasped, sounding somewhat embarrassed.

“Where?”

“Inside me... Please, Peter...”

“That’s good, Egon,” Peter praised as he slowly eased his index finger inside Egon. “Tell me how you want it.”

Again, Egon was silent as he tried to overcome some sort of inner struggle with his need to remain modest. Having Egon stress over an act that was supposed to be sensual and liberating was not Peter’s intention.

“Why don’t we skip the dirty talk for another lesson.” Peter tangled his fingers in the long wavy strands of Egon’s hair and leaned down to kiss him. He timed the kiss just right so that Egon was forced to suck on Peter’s tongue in reaction to Peter’s finger pushing deeper into him. Egon was still as wonderfully tight as he had been last night, but this time he was acutely sensitive from having been penetrated for the first time. It no doubt made Egon more aware of every stroke of Peter’s finger inside of him. When Egon moaned into the kiss and tried to pull away, Peter twisted his finger in a little deeper, which caused the blond to end the kiss with a desperate cry.

Would they be able to hear that downstairs?

“Egon... Is everything okay up there?” Ray called up tentatively.

_Shit_! So much for trying to be discreet. Gazing down at Egon as he lay there panting with his eyes tightly shut and his cheeks flushed, Peter figured that Egon was quite well... but in no condition to respond.

“Everything’s fine, Ray!” Peter hollered back in annoyance.“Why don’t you turn on the radio or something?”

“Turn on the—?” There was the sound of Winston arguing with Ray, followed by a sharp interruption by Janine.

“Forget the radio! I’m gonna need my ears disinfected and my memory purged!” Janine’s outburst was cut short by the sound of the radio being turned up as far as it would go.

Grinning down at Egon, Peter ignored the good old oldies on the radio in favor of returning to what he had been doing. “Is _this_ the spot?” He asked as he curled his finger in deeper. The way Egon moaned and clenched around that finger was answer enough. If the others hadn’t heard Egon’s cry downstairs, they most certainly would’ve heard the way Egon dug his heels into the bottom of the bathtub. It made a horribly obvious squelching sound as the blond fought to either escape the finger or bear down on it harder. Peter wasn’t too sure himself what it was that Egon wanted to do. “You okay?” He asked as he stroked Egon’s wet hair aside so that he could kiss the blond’s graceful neck.

“_Peter_,” Egon moaned, trying to escape the sensation of Peter’s lips on his neck.

“You’re sensitive everywhere, aren’t you?” And that really turned Peter on. Who could complain about having such a responsive partner? When Egon reached up to wrap both arms around Peter’s neck, pulling him down and into a heated kiss, Peter was barely able to brace himself in time to avoid crushing Egon. Someone had to remember to take care of the blond’s injuries. “Mmm, you taste good,” Peter murmured between kisses. How often had he longed to cover Egon’s lips with his own and thrust his tongue into the blond’s mouth to silence some long-winded explanation on a scientific matter that he didn’t understand - or give a damn about? Or, better yet, how many times had he watched Egon innocently licking away at one of his favorite sweets, wishing that he could find a better use for that hot tongue? “It’s not healthy to keep all these emotions pent up inside of you,” Peter teased when Egon grasped him by the hair and ground down onto the finger that was leisurely stroking him inside. But there was nothing amusing about watching Egon wantonly pushing down onto his finger. And when Egon parted his moist lips and whimpered, practically begging to be kissed again, Peter responded with a hunger that he could no longer control. He pressed his lips to Egon’s and slipped his tongue inside, kissing the blond without any reservation. The kiss wasn’t rough, nor was it as gentle as their kisses had been up until that point. It was urgent and demanding. And Egon, with his lack of skill and complete naïveté, could do nothing but moan as Peter’s tongue explored and subdued him. Not breaking away from the kiss, Peter nudged Egon’s thighs further apart and reached for the can of lube that he had left on the floor beside the bathtub. He had brought it in just in case he managed to arouse his new spouse. But as it turned out, Egon hadn’t needed much encouragement.

“Ohhh,” Egon gasped when Peter added his middle finger, slick with lubricant. His blue eyes shot open, and then fluttered shut again as he concentrated on how good it felt to have those fingers inside of him.

Peter paused between kisses to lick a path up Egon’s throat, or to nibble on his ear. It didn’t matter what he did because Egon seemed to crave more stimulation. It was no wonder considering how Egon had avoided sex for so long. Now that Egon had finally been exposed to the more intricate delights of the human flesh, he would not be able to deprive himself anymore. “Someone’s needy this morning,” Peter observed when the pressure around his fingers prevented him from withdrawing them. “You like that, do you?” He bent down to flick the tip of his tongue over Egon’s left nipple, which caused the blond to tremble all over, his legs falling open again. Taking the opportunity presented to him, Peter sank both fingers in to the third knuckle and watched Egon’s eyes close and his mouth open in wonder. The way he moaned low in his throat like an animal in heat was pretty hot, too. Peter didn’t have to ask if he had located Egon’s pleasure spot because the blond’s reaction was evidence enough. Very slowly, Peter withdrew his fingers, watching Egon’s expression become tense, only to slacken again when those fingers twisted back in faster and harder. “Are you ready for me?”

Egon gazed up at Peter as if in a daze, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. “Yes. I want you, Peter.”

“I can tell.” Peter gingerly slid his fingers out and went to work liberally applying lube to his engorged cock. “And I want you like you wouldn’t believe.” He positioned himself at Egon’s entrance and slowly pushed forward, forcing that tiny opening to stretch to accommodate him. “Damn, Egon,” he groaned as he sheathed himself in Egon’s welcoming heat.“You feel so good wrapped around me like this.” Last night Peter had partially censored his need for dirty talk during their lovemaking. But today he wanted to share everything he was thinking and feeling. “Oh yeah... I like it when you clench like that. So nice and tight.”

“_Peter_!” Egon moaned, grinding down hard to meet Peter’s first thrust. “What are you doing?”

“Making you hornier.” Peter leaned down onto Egon and took the blond’s slender cock into his hand. When Egon whimpered and began to tighten around Peter again, Peter thrust deeper into him. The friction was wonderful and the way Egon wrapped his legs around Peter’s waist to invite him even deeper was very sexy. Open like that, Egon was easier to penetrate and easier to pleasure. “Fuck, yeah...,” Peter panted as he leisurely stroked Egon. “I’m so close. Gonna make you so wet inside.”

Egon came with a loud moan at Peter’s words, his slick passage squeezing Peter harder and harder. It didn’t bother Peter that Egon currently had no stamina. He was too appreciative of how good making love to Egon felt. Eventually, Egon would grow accustomed to what was expected of him and build up a bit of tolerance to Peter’s ministrations. But, for the time being, Peter was more than satisfied with witnessing Egon lose all his inhibitions as the need for pleasure won out against his strict upbringing. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Peter breathed heavily into Egon’s ear. “So... damn... beautiful,” he grunted, punctuating each word with a thrust of his hips. He watched Egon’s face as he came inside the blond, thinking it even sexier that they were making love inside a bathtub full of sweetly scented bubbles on the morning after their wedding. When Egon gazed up at him through the veil of his fair eyelashes, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps, Peter was mystified to see that Egon’s pupils were blown. But that was not what caught his attention as he orgasmed nearly twice as hard as he had during their first time together. The intriguing thing about Egon’s pupils were that they were glowing that lovely violet color again. It was odd that Peter had begun to think of the color as ‘lovely’ as opposed to peculiar or unsettling. Mixed in with Egon’s regularly blue eyes, the color combination was visually appealing.

“So hot,” Egon panted, trembling all over and relying on Peter to prevent him from sinking too deep into the cooling water.

What else could Egon be referring to other than Peter’s semen? That thought made Peter grind into Egon once more before his orgasm was over. Then Peter embraced Egon securely, stroking his longish wet hair and lovingly praising him. His body and nerve endings were all tingly with residual excitement. If it hadn’t been for Winston’s time limit, and if they weren’t still in danger of being attacked, Peter could have probably gone another round after a brief recovery. That was how attracted he was to Egon. He couldn’t get enough of him.

After a few minutes of listening to Egon’s panting as it gradually grew quieter , Peter gestured towards the shower head. “Think you can tolerate a short shower? I don’t think this water is fit for bathing in anymore,” he halfway joked. The water was no longer pleasantly warm and all the bubbles had evaporated or turned into wispy suds. Plus the evidence of their lovemaking wouldn’t make the water ideal for rinsing off in.

“So long as the spray doesn’t touch my back,” Egon replied after he had caught his breath.

Pulling the plug on the bath, Peter yanked the shower curtains shut and turned on the faucets. Once he had adjusted the water to a nice warm temperature, he switched on the shower head. Then he blocked Egon from it, keeping the blond behind him so that the spray wouldn’t lash the injuries that had yet to heal.

“Your eyes were glowing again,” Peter said as he took it upon himself to begin washing Egon’s hair. It was an odd kink, but he had always wanted to knead his fingertips into Egon’s scalp while inhaling the scent of some sweet shampoo in that thick blond hair.

“When?” Egon distractedly asked. He leaned back against Peter’s chest and sighed as Peter’s fingers released any tension that may have been lingering. Post-coital Egon happened to be very relaxed and sleepy. And that made Peter feel very relaxed and sleepy.

“Right before I reached sexual nirvana.Close your eyes.” Peter rinsed the shampoo out of Egon’s hair, and then went for the bottle of conditioner. “But it wasn’t like before. This time only your pupils were violet. It was like looking at a violet-blue starburst.”

“I’m not sure what to tell you, Peter. I was aware of nothing but you the entire time.” Egon turned around and locked Peter in a sleepy embrace. Resting his cheek on Peter’s broad shoulder, and covering it in conditioner, Egon seemed to doze off.

“You want to hear something even weirder?”

After a very long pause, Egon made an inquisitive sound against Peter’s shoulder.

“I think that your eyes triggered my abnormally powerful orgasm.”

“It was very good.”

“What was?”

“Your orgasm.”

Peter gazed down at Egon in amazement. “You know, Egon, I think that sex reduces your brain functions to my level because I can now understand you so well. Should I be worried?”

“Only if I’m incapable of remembering the proper calibrations for the containment unit.”

Peter laughed and held Egon possessively in his arms. “Even after all we’ve done together, I still can’t tell when you’re joking.” Even though Peter knew that he was in danger of being bodily harmed by Winston, Ray or Janine, he remained in the shower for long past the hour was up. He was so comfortable with Egon that he didn’t want to move, even if it meant that Janine would likely hurl something at his head when they descended for breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always loved and appreciated! ^_^


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